


Princes Marry Princesses; That Doesn't Mean They Don't Love Their Best Friends Instead

by AntagonizedPenguin



Series: How Best to Use a Sword [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A giant dog, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Arranges Marriage That Doesn't Stop Best Friends From Having Sex Anyway, Best Friends, Character Death, Foot Fetish, Intrigue, M/M, Mutual Hand jobs, Oral Sex, Sex, The dog deserves a tag too, There's a Hetero Relationship In Here Somewhere, Who Have Sex, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 34
Words: 71,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6311113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntagonizedPenguin/pseuds/AntagonizedPenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trade agreement that includes a marriage contract means that Franz has to move north and marry a princess he's never met before. Par for the course for nobility and he always knew an arranged marriage was to be his future. </p><p>So he'll move to the north and put up with their shit weather and terrible food and their courtly intrigue for the greater good. No matter what happens he knows he'll be fine, because really all a guy needs to be fine in life is his best friend and his dog, and Franz made sure to bring both of those with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The last story! In this series, at least. I think nine concurrent stories is ambitious enough, and I do worry that there's only so many times I can pull off "typical fantasy trope...with gayness" and have it be entertaining. 
> 
> The last few stories I've started have been pretty dark and intense, which is not my normal writing style, haha, so I went for something a little lighter this time around. I want to say upfront that I'm not going to do a narrative of the female character being 'in the way' of the two guys' relationship--I've never liked that trope and I've been pleased to see it steadily dying over the last few years. So while there is going to be a significant female character (albeit not immediately) and a significant male/male relationship, I plan for those two things to coexist peacefully. :)
> 
> Also, Boey was a placeholder name that I was using until I could think of a better one, but then it grew on me and now it's stuck there.

“Are you prepared to stop being an adult?” Franz asked his friend playfully as they approached the city on horseback. “I hope so, because it’s too late to turn back.”

“It’s too late for you to turn back.” Boey corrected, wiping his nose. He looked ridiculous piled in furs like that, but probably no less so than Franz did. “Nobody cares if I’m here.” 

“But I thought we agreed that you were going to be the prince and I would be the leal companion!” Franz protested. “Don’t tell me you let me come here so that _I_ could get married to some girl we’ve never met before!”

“The girl we’ve never met before is a princess, you made me come, and you’re going to marry her so I can laugh at you.” Boey deadpanned. 

“I don’t like you.” Franz declared, watching the princess’ city grow larger. “I’ve never liked you.” 

“You love me.”

“Yes, and you’re damn lucky I do.” Franz shivered. Why did it have to be so damnably _cold_ in the north? It was spring already and it was still snowing up here! “Another prince would have had your tongue out for all that insolence.” 

“Funny, usually you call it refreshing.”

“Usually you’re making fun of people that I don’t like.” Franz sighed, his breath frosting in front of him, and looked again at the northern capital. “Seriously, though. I’m glad you came.” Franz had brought several dozen guards and his own household staff with him when he’d left to honour the marriage contract his parents had secretly forged with the northern kingdom, but he would have felt alone without Boey. 

“Of course I came.” Boey said quietly. He was usually quiet. “You didn’t really think I’d leave you alone, did you?” 

“No, I didn’t.” Franz smiled, not that Boey could see it under all the ice that was caked on to his scarf and coat and everything else. 

Hopefully there was a hot bath waiting for them in the palace once they got there. 

“Do you really think they’re going to treat us like children?” Boey asked a moment later.

“We are children here.” Franz said. “Or at least, not adults. They think of adulthood differently. It will be…a year, maybe a few, before they think of us like that.” 

“And yet they’re letting you get married to their princess.” 

“Well.” Franz smirked. “It’s a given in most places that the rules are a little more flexible for royalty. Especially when important treaties are on the line.”

Boey shook his head. “Well, I guess the few extra years will give you some time to actually grow up, at least.” 

“Hey! I’m very mature.”

“Of course you are, my prince.” 

“I want a different companion. A better one, who’s nicer to me.”

“Too late.” Boey seemed to frown under his layers. Without them, he was sharp-eyed and handsome in a way that made girls (and boys) like him, but Franz couldn’t see any of that with all the fur around his face. “The nobility here doesn’t have companions, do they?”

“No.” Franz nearly said that Boey would know that if he’d paid attention in any of the lessons they’d had, but most likely Boey was testing to make sure _he_ knew. “They don’t have a lot of things up here. Like the _sun,_ apparently.” This last was directed upward at the seemingly constant cloud cover. 

“You’re being a wimp.” 

“You’re wearing an entire bear!” 

“Actually, I think it’s several rabbits stitched together.”

“You can afford nicer fur.” Franz grumbled, looking sideways at Boey, picturing him dressed up in bear fur and smiling a little to himself. “I’ll buy you some.”

“You don’t need to buy me things.” Boey said, looking away. 

“I want to buy you things.”

“Buy things for your princess.”

“I have a lot of money. I can buy things for two people.”

“How do you think she’s going to feel about that?”

“About me having a friend? I can’t imagine…wait, is that something you’ve been worrying about?” Boey didn’t answer and Franz felt kind of bad because it seemed like something he should have noticed. “Hey. It’s not something you need to worry about. I didn’t drag you up to the far reaches of the world so I could ignore you.” 

“They don’t have companions up here.” Boey said quietly. 

“Too bad.” Franz’s voice hardened as he realized how seriously worried Boey was. “I’m not from here. They got me as part of their trade agreement, and you and I are a package. I’ll live here in their castle and marry their princess and freeze my fingers off in their stupid weather, but I’m not giving you up for them. I’m _not,_ Boey.” 

Boey looked at him, wide-eyed underneath his furs, and smiled—and it was the warmest thing Franz had seen in days. He laughed. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hey! I just made a grand declaration of love, expressing my eternal loyalty to you! Have a little respect!”

Boey just shook his head. “I love you too. Maybe later if you’re still cold we could…”

“My prince!” Alvin, the captain of Franz’s guards, rode up to them from the front of the group, and Franz tried hard not to glare at him for interrupting what was probably a really good idea. “We’re being met.”

“They came out to meet us?” Franz supposed that shouldn’t have been a surprise. It would have been awfully rude to let foreign royalty arrive at the city without being greeted. “Is the princess with them?”

“No, my prince. It’s a contingent of knights.”

“To escort us to the palace?”

“And make sure that we don’t try anything funny in the city, no doubt.” Boey muttered, and Franz nodded. 

“Let’s meet them, then.” 

Franz rode out ahead, with Alvin and Boey beside him, to see the large column of knights moving towards them through the snow. “There are rather a lot of them.” Franz commented. “They’re either doing me a great honour or they’re very worried.”

“My money’s on both.” Boey put in.

“There hasn’t been a war between our countries in three centuries. Do they really think I’d start one in sight of the walls of their capital?” 

“My prince, I think they’re worried you’ll start one once you’re within the walls of the capital.”

“And the walls of their palace, I know.” Franz stopped and called a halt at the top of a small hill, letting the northern knights come to them. Even though he knew he was going to regret it, he pulled back the hood of his heavy cloak and took off the hat and scarf he’d been wearing, handing them off to Boey and willing his nose not to run until at least after he’d met the knights. 

Franz’s mother had always told him he was soft-faced, and whatever that meant he tried to act like he wasn’t without giving the impression that he was trying too hard to look impressive. The snow had covered his dark hair in white by the time the knights finally reached them. 

The knight in the lead managed to look dignified even half-frozen, wearing nothing to warm him but his ornate armour. He was grey-haired and…stately, Franz thought, in a way that suggested a comfort with authority. “I am Knight Commander Richard Stormhowe.” He announced. “I seek audience with Prince Franz DiGorre of the kingdom of Kyaine.” 

Alvin urged his horse forward a few steps and, in a similar voice, intoned, “You are in the presence of the Prince Franz…” He went on to list off the litany of titles that went behind Franz’s name, while Franz tried not to look bored. Protector of this, Lord-Regent of that mountain, heir to this, that and the other thing, holder of the keys of something or other…If pressed, Franz wasn’t totally sure he could recite them all, especially since most of them were empty ostentation. Besides, he if forgot any and it was important, he knew Boey knew them all. 

“Knight Commander.” Franz said formally when Alvin was done. He was pleased with his decision to be rid of all his warm headwear, because soon he wouldn’t be able to feel his face at all. “I will gladly accept your offer of an escort.” He hadn’t actually made one, which was reason enough for Franz to pretend they had. “I am pleased to see that the northern hospitality I’ve heard so much about is alive and well.”

“Not as pleased as I to learn that our kingdom has left such an impression upon you, Highness.” Richard turned his horse around in the snow and Franz rode up beside him, and they began towards the capital at a brisk pace. Alvin kept back a respectful distance but Boey rode right beside Franz, just a step behind. They were in the middle of Richard’s column but several of Franz’s guards had made a ring around the four of them. 

Good thing it was such a wide road. 

“I trust your journey was pleasant, Highness?”

“It was a little chillier than I expected at this time of year, but otherwise yes.” 

“It’s been a terrible winter.” Richard agreed. “You wouldn’t even know that spring is supposed to have come already. I assure you, however, you will be most comfortable inside the palace. The king and queen have prepared a feast to honour your arrival.” 

“I look forward to seeing it.” Franz said, wondering if that had been meant to sound like a threat or if he was just paranoid. “And to meeting the Princess Gabrielle about whom I’ve heard so much.” 

The way Richard stilled, just for a moment, at Gabrielle’s name told Franz something was wrong. “Knight Commander? The princess will be in attendance, yes? She is the one I’ve come all this way to see, after all.”

“Yes. Well, Highness, as to that. I’m sure you are aware that the Princess Gabrielle is also an anointed knight. Unfortunately, her duties to our order often take her away from the palace.” 

Franz had known that, but not that she wasn’t in the capital. He could have waited until it was warmer to travel. “You have her out on errantry somewhere?” 

“Yes, in a manner of speaking. The long winter has slowed down the mission she was sent on in the autumn. It may be a few weeks yet before she returns. I beg your forgiveness, Highness.”

“That’s quite alright.” Franz said, more curious than anything. What was it that she was out doing that was more important than this? “What is her mission, if I may ask?”

They passed through the gates of the city and Franz took a second to look around, supposing that the northern capital—it was called Three Hills even though there were six—was more impressive when not buried in snow. It was clear that a path had been cleared for their party, and there were a few onlookers out to see the strange foreign prince. Franz waved at them. 

“Nothing too interesting, I fear.” Richard said calmly. “She leads a group tasked with hunting an outlaw.” 

Franz glanced first at Richard, and then at Boey. That sounded awfully like a lie to him. “Well, I do hope she’s in good health. It should be a shame if any harm were to come to her.” 

“The princess is a very capable knight. There is no cause for fear. In the meantime, I’m told comfortable apartments have been furnished for your use in the palace.” 

The ride to the palace was longer than Franz would have liked, mostly because his dreams of his face losing feeling never came true and he just seemed to get colder. The Knight Commander pointed out some important locations in the city, including the fortress where his order was headquartered and the tower that housed the mages’ academy. 

Franz had lived his life in castles, but he supposed as far as they went the one housing the northern royal family was quite impressive. It had ten towers, thick walls, extensive grounds that were probably pretty in the summer, and even a small lake, and that was all just on the way from the gate to the front entrance. 

Richard parted from them at the door and an official whose name Franz didn’t catch because of all the snow in his ears showed Franz to his apartments to rest and warm up before his meeting with his soon-to-be parents-in-law at dinner. Accommodations were promised for all of Franz’s servants and guards and the official seemed perplexed only for a second when Boey accompanied Franz into the apartments, but Franz saw in the way he spoke to them after that that he just thought of Boey as a servant. 

Finally the two of them were left alone. “What are they playing at?” Boey demanded as they both stripped out of all their fur. It was actually rather warm in the palace—there were fires burning everywhere. “They made you come all the way here and she’s not even in the city?” 

“She’s a knight.” Franz said calmly. Boey being upset always made him calmer. “She’s off doing knightly things somewhere.”

“Sure, catching an outlaw.” Boey scoffed as he pried his boots off and started massaging feeling into his toes. “They don’t even lie well in the north.” 

“Someone will know what she’s really doing.” Franz asserted, dumping the last of his furs on a chair and starting on the rest of his clothes too. The apartments were lavishly appointed with lots of carpets and pillows, large windows and a lot of space for any possessions Franz might have brought with him. There was apparently a room with a bath in it, where water had been heated and prepared for him already. Franz didn’t want to go to the northern king and queen sweaty and smelling like he’d ridden for two weeks, so hopefully by the time he got out some of his servants would have brought a change of clothes up here for him. “The north isn’t going to be any different from home in this respect—castles are cesspools for rumours and intrigue. Someone will know and someone will tell one of us.”

“Cesspools for rumour and intrigue.” Boey scoffed. “You sound like your mother.” 

“I should banish you from my bath for that.” 

“As if you don’t love those things anyway.” Boey went on blithely, unbuttoning his pants. “You’d be bored to death if everyone wasn’t trying to backstab and manipulate each other and you.” 

“True enough.” Franz finished stripping and began to wander the apartments to look for the bath, sniffing himself and determining that yes, this was as important as he’d thought. “If royals didn’t have intrigue to keep us busy, we’d try to do something dangerous like govern, and nobody wants that.”

Boey’s arms wrapping around him from behind came as a surprise, and Franz jumped for how cold they were. “You’re freezing, Boey!”

“So are you. Want to warm up together?” 

Franz smiled. “They did say we should get comfortable before dinner.” 

Princess Gabrielle could take as long as she liked hunting fictional outlaws, Franz thought as the two of them headed into the bath together. He didn’t mind waiting for her at all, because given the choice between a political marriage to someone he didn’t know and sharing a bath with his best friend, he would pick Boey every time.


	2. Eating too Much Unfamiliar Food at Once is a Recipe for Illness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I could think when I started writing Franz as a character was that he was the type of person who would have a giant dopey dog with a dumb name that follows him around and sleeps on his bed.

“I hate the north.” Franz said to the ceiling of his apartments, willing it to stop spinning. 

“It’s cold and the food is poisonous.” He continued, with no answer. 

Somewhere out of his sight, he could hear a dog whinging. “Boey.” 

But Boey wasn’t in the room with him at the moment, Franz remembered, because he’d gone to get something. He couldn’t remember what, but Franz thought it probably couldn’t be as important as staying here and making sure that his best friend didn’t die. 

The dog whinged again. “Shhhh…” Franz said to the ceiling. “I’m trying to sleep.” 

He wasn’t going to sleep, though, because he was too busy being way to goddamn hot from the fever he had. It was probably the worst thing that could have happened because even with all the fires burning it really wasn’t warm enough to be laying on top of the bedcovers in his underclothes, but he was too hot to do anything else. So while he burned up from the inside, he was also shivering. 

The dog’s whinging stopped and Franz sighed in relief, but a moment later a huge wet nose was stuck in his ear. “Ah, no, go away, Dragon.” 

Dragon just whinged again put his head on the bed, breathing in Franz’s ear. “Okay, okay. I’ll put you out.” He rolled over onto his side as phase one of his plan to get out of the bed, wishing there was a servant or something hovering in the room to let Dragon out for him. But he’d sent them all away before because servants shouldn’t see their master looking so pitiful. This wouldn’t be a problem if Boey were here. 

Dragon was a big, jowly grey mastiff and he watched Franz try to get up with impatience in his eyes. “You can hold it in for a few seconds.” Franz growled as he took a breath to recover from the exertion of rolling over. It would be easier if the dog weren’t breathing in his face now. 

Besides Boey, Dragon was the only thing (not that either of them was a thing) that Franz had categorically refused to leave home. The dog was probably his other best friend and he didn’t care if the castle staff here were horrified that he had an animal living in his apartments with him instead of in the kennel outside. Let them write it off as some weird southern affectation. 

“Okay.” Franz took a deep breath of dog-scented air and tried to roll a little more, swing his feet out and stand. 

He managed the first of those things and ended up falling onto the floor, where Dragon bent down and started sniffing him before licking behind Franz’s ear. “You suck.” Franz moaned. “I’m here dying and all you want to do is taste my ears?”

“Lords and ladies, I present to you your future king.” Boey’s voice drifted over from somewhere. “Yes, I know he’s on the floor in his underclothes being licked by a dog, but really, he’s a serious leader with your best interests at heart.” 

“Let the dog out.” Franz mumbled, coming to terms with the fact that he lived on the floor now. It was pleasantly cool, even with all the carpets and rugs. “He wants to go out.” 

Franz heard a sigh. “Come here, Dragon.” 

“Traitor.” Franz said vaguely when Dragon abandoned him right away. “Show some loyalty to your master.” The apartments had garden doors that opened to the outside, which had been hidden behind some curtains to prevent a draft. Franz had, despite his better judgement, unhidden them so Dragon didn’t have to go through the whole castle to go outside. 

A minute later Boey was back, crouched beside him on the floor. “I was gone for five minutes.”

“You left me here with just the dog for company.” 

“You asked me to get you some ice to put on your head.”

“I think I ordered you, actually. Do you listen to my orders? Have you ever followed an order that I’ve given you?”

“No.” Boey said gently, reaching down and trying to manoeuvre Franz into a sitting position. “Come on. You need to get back in bed.” 

“I like the floor.” Franz protested even as he obeyed. “The floor is nice to me.”

“You’re such a fucking wimp, I swear.” 

“Stop being mean. I’m dying.”

“Only you would get killed by some spices.” 

“I can’t believe you’re making fun of me.” Franz said as Boey got him to stand. Franz immediately fell over and Boey let him land on the bed, straightening him out and putting something cool on his forehead. That was thoughtful. “At least wait until I can fight back.”

“You can’t fight back when you’re healthy anyway.” Boey sighed, sat down beside Franz on the bed and started rubbing his belly. Franz smiled contentedly when he realized that it felt nice. “You’re getting better. You haven’t thrown up today at all.”

“You were sick for an hour. How come I’ve been sick for so much longer?”

“You have a sensitive stomach.” Boey told him. The illness had started almost immediately after the banquet the king and queen had thrown in his honour, and most of the people Franz had brought with him had gotten sick too. 

“We’re all going to starve while we’re here.” 

“No we aren’t.” They’d been assured that not all food in the north was as rich in spice and oil as what they’d eaten that night. “It will just take a little getting used to, like all the rest of this.”

“Stop being reasonable.” Franz grumbled. “You’re making me look childish. Are all the northerners laughing at me?”

“No, actually. They seem to be worried that you’ll hate them for making you sick.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t. I told them you didn’t.”

“Don’t presume to know my thoughts.”

“Some of our people are going to teach the northern cooks how to make some southern foods as well.” 

“That’s nice of them.”

“I found out where your princess is, too.”

“Really?” Franz tried to sit up, found he couldn’t and was grateful when Boey pushed him back down, because it gave him an excuse not to try. “You were gone for five minutes.”

“It was a productive five minutes. They all think I’m your servant, and servants talk a lot.”

“Don’t let them think that. I don’t want them to think you’re a servant.” That was important to Franz. Boey wasn’t a servant, he was a friend.

“Anyway, it seems she’s out looking for her brother.” 

“Her brother?” Franz cast through his memory. He’d been told the names of all the royal family here and that had definitely included a brother. “Gavin?” 

“Yes. Apparently he was abducted by a dragon in the summer.” 

“Oh.” Franz thought he should have more of a reaction than that, but his head was still pretty fuzzy. “That’s terrible.”

“Everyone’s pretending that he’s safe at some villa in the country, but he’s not.” 

“So she’s out looking for him.” Franz nodded, which turned out to be a bad idea when whatever was on his head fell into his eyes. Boey straightened it. “I guess that’s okay. That’s where I’d be too.” Franz had two little sisters and a baby brother, and an older brother and sister as well. He would have been out looking if one of them had gone missing. “Anything else interesting?”

Boey made a little noise. “Nothing that can’t wait until you’re better.” 

“You should distract me from my pain with courtly gossip.”

“You’re falling asleep anyway.”

“No I’m not.” Franz protested. “I’m wide awake.”

“It’s taking you longer and longer to answer me every time you talk.” 

“Is not.” Franz frowned. 

“I got up and let Dragon in a minute ago and you didn’t notice.” 

“You’re lying.”

“He’s laying at your feet right now.” 

Franz wasn’t going to dignify that by looking, and he couldn’t really move his head much anyway. Boey was still rubbing his belly, which still felt nice. 

“I can’t believe they tried to poison me.” He said instead.

“Go to sleep, Franz.”

“But we’re talking.” Franz insisted. “I like talking to you. I love you.”

“I know, and I love you too, and we’ll talk when you’re better. Go to sleep.”

“Fine.” Franz huffed, deciding he would stay awake now just to spite Boey. 

When he woke up the next day, Boey was sleeping beside him.


	3. Properly Asking for Things Can Be a Bit Tricky

“So Gabrielle’s out looking for her lost little brother.” Franz said, moving slowly into a new stance. “What cause does she have to think he’s alive after all this time, I wonder?” Or maybe she didn’t think he was, but was looking anyway from a position of denial. 

“What reason would she have to think that he’s dead?” Boey countered, sitting at the table writing something. He was wearing his reading glasses, which made him look like a tutor. Franz thought they were cute.

Of course, Franz just thought Boey was cute, so that may not have been saying much. 

“Well, a dragon plucked him out of the castle and made off with him. They aren’t known for being gentle animals.”

“They are known to take care of things that they’ve claimed, though.”

“Would you want to experience being taken care of by a lizard the size of a house?” 

“Fair point.” Boey considered. “I can look into it. It will be hard to find anything out officially as long as we’re pretending we don’t know what’s happening.” 

“I’d rather they all assumed I was in the dark about…pretty much everything.” Franz said. “Just the stupid southern prince, just here for his reproductive powers.”

“Perfectly safe to talk to, yeah, yeah.” Boey said. “I get it. And can I assume that’s also why you’re doing your stances naked?”

Franz smiled and kept moving. “Sort of.” It was chilly, but also necessary. “Admittedly I’m also hoping it will plant ideas in your head.” 

“It’s not working.” 

“That’s because you’re a terrible friend.” Franz declared, moving slowly, like water. “I’m over here, separated from my family, awaiting my betrothed, stuck in a cold palace full of people waiting to stab me in the back at the first opportunity, and you can’t even bring yourself to offer conciliatory blow jobs?”

“Conciliatory is the wrong word to use in that sentence.” Boey muttered, looking back down at his letter. “And no. If you want blow jobs just ask for them like a normal person.” 

“That’s hardly romantic.”

“It’s a lot more effective, though. Besides, sticking your cock in my mouth isn’t all that romantic either.”

“Well, not when you describe it like _that._ ” Franz said with a huff. 

“I swear to God if you start reciting poetry about the sweet nectar of youth or some bullshit…”

“I wasn’t!” Franz said, colouring because he’d been about to. “Going to do that.” 

“I’m using my teeth next time.”

“Boey!” Franz protested, faltering for a moment in his movements. “That hardly seems like a necessary reaction and you know how fragile I…” Franz cut himself off when he heard the door handle, and sure enough the door swung open unannounced. On the floor under the table, Dragon lifted his head but made no move to get up.

The door often opened unannounced. A lot of northerners seemed to have difficulty knocking, Franz had noticed. A boy younger than Franz in servant’s livery stood in the doorway, stopped, wide-eyed, and averted his eyes. “I…I’m terribly sorry, your Highness. I should have announced my entry before…”

“You should have.” Franz agreed, moving another step and frowning. He’d done Tiger Spirit wrong. Boey would make fun of him for that later. “But it’s too late now—perhaps you can try it next time.”

“Yes, sire.” And with luck he would tell the rest of the servants the same damn thing and then people would stop walking into these apartments without permission all the damn time. 

Probably Franz would have to repeat this stunt a few more times, though. “What’s your name?”

“Frederick, sire.”

“What is it that you need, Frederick? Don’t be afraid of me, Boey will assure you, I’m quite harmless.” Boey had barely looked up from the table the entire time. 

“Yes, sire. Um. I’m to deliver this message to you, sire.” 

Franz came out of stance and walked over to take the rolled up little paper, feeling a little bad for how desperately Frederick tried not to look at anything while that happened. “Thank you.” He said, not opening the paper. “If that’s all?”

“That’s all, sire.” The servant was backing out of the room. 

“Thank you, then. Do me a favour, if you see one of my guards, let them know I’m looking for their captain, would you?”

“Yes sire, thank you, sire.” Frederick said, backing out of the room and pulling the door shut behind him. “Again, I’m very sorry for the intrusion, your Highness.” The door clicked shut and Franz sighed, looking at the seal on the message. A circular shield with a raven on it. If he remembered correctly, that was the seal of the kingdom’s knight order. 

“That was mean.” Boey said, glancing up from his letter to look judgementally at Franz over his glasses. 

“It was necessary.” Franz said, breaking the wax and unrolling the letter. 

“You didn’t need to go out of your way to intimidate him.”

“Okay, that part may have been a little mean.” Franz admitted. “I feel a bit bad for that. Hopefully he was intimidated enough that he’ll make sure everyone knows I don’t appreciate people not knocking.”

“You could just ask them to knock.”

“I shouldn’t need to ask for common courtesy.” Franz said testily. “These are either my apartments or they aren’t. I’d like to know which is all.” 

Boey sighed. “I guess. What does the letter say?”

“I’ve been invited by Commander Stormhowe to tour the knights’ fortress.”

“Why in the world would they invite you to do that?”

“I may have expressed an interest at some point or another.” To various people, as a matter of fact. “In seeing their training facilities, and the fortress where my betrothed spends much of her time.”

“You just want to make the knights uncomfortable for a few hours.” 

“Actually I just want to see if the Knight Commander honestly feels I’m a threat to the kingdom or not.” Franz said, setting the letter on the table. Boey snatched it and looked it over as if for hidden messages while Franz sat, poured himself some tea and stuck his feet under Dragon’s flank for warmth. 

“You didn’t finish your stances.”

“Too cold.” Franz complained. 

“It’s been warming up. And get dressed. You screwed up Tiger Spirit again.”

“Did not.”

“Sorry, did we start doing it with both feet on the ground all of the sudden?”

“I don’t like you.”

“You do too.”

“What are you writing, anyway?” Franz asked, peering over to the letter Boey had been writing. 

“A letter to your parents.” The look Boey gave him was an unimpressed one.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Franz said, scowling. “I wrote to them when we got here.”

“And not since.”

“Nothing’s happened yet!”

“Write to your parents.”

“Fine.” Franz huffed. “Wait, how come you aren’t writing to _your_ parents?”

“I already did.” Boey said, and any moral high ground Franz might have won disintegrated.

“Hey, Franz?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’m kind of hard. Can I have a blow job?”

“Sure, give me a second to finish…hey.” Franz narrowed his eyes. “I see what you did, Boey.”

“See?” Boey smiled. “More effective.”

“Just for that I’m not going to do it.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Yes, I am.” Franz admitted, shaking his head and finishing his tea quickly before shimmying under the table and around Dragon to get between Boey’s legs.


	4. Shopping is Either Fun or Tortuous Depending on Who You Ask

“He definitely doesn’t think that you’re a threat to the kingdom.”

“No.” Franz agreed, looking around the streets. “He just thinks I’m an idiot.” 

“Well…”

“He does.” Franz asserted. “And that’s fine, that’s a more useful thing for him to think then that I’m his enemy. Some of his knights weren’t so sure.” 

The trip to the fortress had gone by the book. Franz had toured the facility, watched some of the knights at combat practice that was clearly being held for his benefit, had lunch with the commander, talked about the history of the order and some historic knights just famous enough for the dumb southern prince to know about, and danced around the question of Gabrielle’s eventual return. 

It had all been very entertaining, but Franz was glad it was done with. 

“Don’t buy anything.”

“I’m going to buy something.” Franz muttered. He had had them stop in a marketplace on the way back and was now looking through a street vendor’s collection of very tacky rings. He kind of liked some of them. 

“You don’t need anything. You have too much stuff.” Boey said, standing behind him in a slightly displeased fashion. 

“I’m supporting the local economy.” Franz retorted. “Besides, you don’t think Dahlia would like these?” 

Boey looked at the rings and sighed. “Not the red ones. Red makes her look like she’s about to eat someone.” 

Franz could not disagree with that assessment of his sister. He picked up a ring with a blue stone instead. It was probably coloured glass, but Dahlia would enjoy wearing it at times if only to see the reactions of other nobles at the cheap jewellery. “I shouldn’t get something for her without getting something for Flora, should I?”

“Only if you want to be dropped under the baby on the ‘least favourite brother’ list.” 

“Right.” As unfortunate as that was for baby Donovan, he was going to have to learn to fight for (and buy) his siblings’ love just like everyone else. “Wait, I’m above Felix now, aren’t I? Do I want to be on the top or the bottom of this list? This one.” He said, holding the ring up to the merchant, smiling a little vapidly and pulling out a gold coin that they both knew the ring wasn’t worth, handing it over without a care. 

“I think.” Boey said as they were walking away, looking at other shops for something Franz could buy Flora. What did you buy an eight year old? “I think that you should reconsider the ‘stupid’ approach. People would respect you more if they thought you were intelligent. Which I’d remind you, you are.” 

“Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.” Franz said, stepping around someone with a small child, smiling at her. “If I were smart they’d think I was arrogant. This way at least they think I’m harmless, and ultimately I need them to not hate me on principle, don’t you think?” 

“I guess.” Boey admitted. “Still, I hate that everyone thinks you’re an idiot.”

“You don’t think that.”

“I do, but only because I’ve known you since you couldn’t dress yourself.” 

“Well.” Franz had nothing to say to that. “Here we go.” There was a stand with a lady selling hats. Franz found a little pink one with flowers around the rim. “This is perfect.”

“Isn’t it?” The shopkeeper asked, smiling. She sensed someone with money, Franz figured. “The flowers are my favourite touch.”

“My sister will love them.” Franz promised her, taking out more money and handing it over. 

Boey waited until they were out of earshot before speaking again. “Your mother is going to hate that hat.”

“Good thing I didn’t buy it for my mother.”

“She is never going to let your sister wear that. It’s a bizarre combination of a baby’s bonnet and an old lady’s sunhat, and she’s not going to want it on her daughter’s head.”

“Yes, she is.” Franz assured Boey. “Mom has a hard time saying no to Flora.” Franz didn’t actually think his mother would object that strongly, to be honest. Even if she was very particular about the way her children presented themselves, it was just a hat. Besides, if she didn’t want Flora to wear it, all she had to do was wait two days and buy her a different one. 

“If you’re going to play the fool, can’t you at least play the fool with taste?” 

“Taste is overrated.” Franz said, frowning at something on the street. “Look, that man’s about to be arrested.” 

Boey looked where Franz was looking. There was a disheveled-looking man not far from them who was shouting on a corner, grabbing at people as they went by. There were some city guards approaching him, intent plain on their faces. “The messiah is come!” The man was hollering. “Chained by wicked souls, he will carve a path for us all to the white gates of Heaven, drag us from the filth-strewn streets of perdition! God’s chosen champion, he will cast out heresies and purify our lives!” 

The guards had reached the man and were now taking him away. He went without fuss, shouting all the way. “The messiah walks among us!” He insisted. “Waiting to be recognized! Following before he can lead! Fire will rain down from the sky and he shall bleed for our souls!” One of the guards cuffed the man to make him stop talking. Franz watched them until they were out of sight. His own guards watched as well, and had drawn in closer than their usual hundred paces throughout the whole thing.

“I think we have that prophecy at home, don’t we?” Franz asked.

“We do.” Boey said, nodding. “Though we don’t usually call the messiah a ‘he.’”

“Well, they would up here, though.” Franz said. “God isn’t a woman in the north either.” Which was possibly the most ridiculous thing of all the strange northern things, not that he was going to say that. 

“People have been prophesying her—or him—forever.” Boey grumbled, making a vague benedictory gesture. “And yet.”

“And yet we’re still walking the filth-strewn streets of perdition.” 

“They are kind of dirty.” Boey said, glancing around.

“They aren’t that bad.” Franz disagreed. The snowmelt was leaving behind a lot of grit and dirt that turned into mud as the streets stayed wet, but he was sure that would be cleaned up once spring was properly underway. 

“Can we go now?”

“No, I’m still shopping.”

“For what?” Boey demanded.

“I don’t know.” Franz said. He was looking for something to get Boey. “That’s the best part of shopping. You get to find things you didn’t even know you wanted.” 

“That is the stupidest defence of your poor impulse control that I’ve ever heard.” 

“Hey!” Franz pouted. “I express my love for discovering the fruits of the world and you put me down? Why do I put up with you?”

“It’s a mystery. Can we go back to the castle now?” 

“No. The castle is stifling.” Franz was of a mind to wander the city all day now, just because of that. “You can go back there if you want, I’ll join you later.” 

“You’ll be kidnapped within fifteen minutes of me leaving your side and we both know it.” Boey muttered. 

“I have a lot of guards who would say otherwise.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Boey said, sighing. “Let’s go. If you ask me to hold your bags for you I’m going to hit you.” 

“So noted.” Franz grinned, but Boey just scowled at him and they resumed wandering the marketplace. 

Out of pity for Boey, Franz only stayed for another half hour or so, and by the time they left, Franz had spent more money on gifts for Boey than for anyone else.


	5. Nobles Never Talk to Anyone Unless they Want Something

“Do you think Gabrielle will let Dragon sleep in our bed?” Franz asked idly, spread out on his back in the mess of blankets that the bed always was when they woke up. 

“That seems unlikely.” Boey said. His head was on Franz’s bare belly, his hair tickling Franz a little. 

“Maybe she likes dogs.”

“Liking dogs doesn’t mean you let a dog the size of a person sleep on your feet.” 

Franz scowled up at the roof. “I guess. Do you think she’ll let you sleep in our bed?”

Boey smiled. “I think she’s about as likely to marry Dragon as she is to let me sleep in your bed.” Boey turned and looked at the dog, who was laying contentedly across Franz’s shins. “Though to be fair, he’s better looking than you.”

“Well, fine.” Franz said, reaching down and giving Boey’s ear a flick. “Next time you want sex you can ask him, then.” 

“Ew.” Boey declared, sitting up and stretching. 

“Where are you going?”

“Cuddle time is over.” Boey climbed over Franz to get out of bed. Franz grabbed his ass on the way by, just because it was there. 

“As your prince, I demand more cuddle time.” Franz made no secret of the fact that he was watching Boey move through the room. Boey was naked and he liked looking at Boey when he was naked. 

“Get dressed.” 

“The dog is on my legs.”

“Here, Dragon.” Dragon raised his head and scrambled about, hopping off the bed to join Boey. Franz scowled at both of them. 

“I don’t know why I put up with either of you.”

“We feel the same way about you.” Boey said, scratching Dragon behind the ears. He looked over at Franz expectantly. “Get up.”

“I am up.” Franz smiled, nodded down at the erection he’d gotten watching Boey move around.

Boey didn’t look as impressed as Franz thought this warranted. “Get out of bed.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Franz. I will give your breakfast to Dragon.” Dragon’s head perked up at this. Franz was pretty sure ‘breakfast’ was one of the words he knew. 

“Fine.” Franz sighed, held out a hand. “Come help me up?”

Boey rolled his eyes but did come over, taking Franz’s hand and pulling him out of bed. With another sigh, Franz stood, and then gracefully moved in to kiss Boey on the mouth, wrapping an arm around his friend. 

Boey kissed back, his body relaxing just a bit. When they stopped for air, he said, “Your breath is terrible.”

“You’ll stop noticing in a minute.” Franz muttered, reaching down and grabbing Boey’s growing hardness, rubbing it together with his own. He pulled them back on the bed and, with Boey on top of him, they started kissing again, Franz’s hand helping things along. 

After a few minutes Boey stiffened and shot in between their chests. The noise he made into Franz’s mouth pushed Franz over the edge as well and he followed Boey and made the mess worse. 

Boey stayed on top of him, breathing on Franz’s face with his eyes closed, a satisfied flush spread across his face. “Okay.” He said after a minute. “Maybe it was a little too early to get up after all.”

“I tried to tell you.” Franz gave Boey a little kiss on the cheek. “ _Now_ we can get dressed.” 

Franz cleaned them both up with a blanket from the bed before they both got clumsily to their feet and started dressing. Boey alternated between dressing himself and dressing Franz, and still managed to be done while Franz was still doing up buttons on his shirt. 

Dragon had left the room at some point, probably annoyed at their non-breakfast related activities, and they found him out in the sitting room beside their table, his own bowl in his mouth. Franz smiled and took it, filling it with the gravy and leftover meat from last night’s dinner that he requested for the dog every morning. 

“He’s going to get fat if you keep feeding him like that.” Boey said as they sat down at the table for their own meal, which was laid out already. He still had that pleased smile on his face, and he didn’t even bother to glare into the corner like he usually did the last few days, as if the huge, warm, white bear fur that was neatly folded there personally offended him. 

Boey had never been good at receiving gifts. 

“People have been telling me that for years.” Franz said, taking some porridge and wondering not for the first time why there was bread on the table. They ate so much bread in the north, with almost every meal, and most of it was hard and half-stale. Dragon was happily slurping away at his meal under the table. “He’s not going to get fat. He gets lots of exercise and dogs are supposed to eat meat anyway.” 

“Not like that.” Boey took some of the bread, considered the assortment of jams and spreads beside the plate and just dipped it in his porridge instead. “We’re going to get fat too if we keep eating like this.” He muttered.

“A lot of northerners seem to be.” Franz pointed out. “Maybe that’s why.”

“Maybe.” 

They ate in silence for the most part. Dragon finished eating and proceeded to stare up at the table as if the evidence of his meal wasn’t right at their feet. Franz gave him a heel of bread and Dragon sniffed it for a long moment before eating it slowly. “Even the dog thinks it’s stupid to eat bread for breakfast.” Franz observed.

A light knock at the door turned all three of their heads. “Hey.” Franz said with a smile. “They’ve learned knocking.”

“Good, you don’t have to feel bad about wearing pants.” Boey said, standing to answer it. 

The man waiting on the other side of the door was tall and heavy, wearing dark clothes with too many frills on them and an ingratiating smile that Franz immediately wanted to punch off his face. “I do hope I’m not intruding.” He said immediately, ignoring Boey as if he weren’t there and bowing a little in Franz’s direction. “Good morning, Your Highness.” 

That was a northern styling, Franz thought, smiling up at the man. He didn’t stand. “Of course you aren’t, sir. Please, come in. Would you like some breakfast?” 

“Thank you so much for your hospitality.” The man said. “I am Lord Kenneth Wrathwate, the king’s treasurer. I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to introduce myself to our lovely princess’s husband-to-be.”

 _Never trust a man who introduces himself with his title._ Franz’s mother had told him when he’d been very young. Franz had been very confused by that for quite a while, as most nobles seemed to do exactly that. When he’d asked her a few years later, she’d laughed and said _That’s the point, dear son._

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Kenneth.” Franz said, intentionally styling him with his first name in the southern fashion and gesturing him to sit in the third chair at the table, between his and Boey’s. Dragon got up and trotted over to the man, apparently just to stand at his hand. Lord Kenneth looked perturbed for a moment, as if Dragon might attack him, but Dragon just stood there, looking up at him, and Kenneth eventually decided it was safe to ignore the dog. 

“Come here, Dragon.” Boey said, crossing the room as Kenneth moved to sit. “Outside.” With one last long look at Kenneth, Dragon obediently went over and Boey opened the garden doors. He looked up at Boey for a minute as well before going outside, and only did when Boey nodded down at him. 

Only after Boey had closed the doors behind the dog did Lord Kenneth speak. “A noble beast, that one.” 

“Dragon?” Franz asked, glancing at the doors. “I’ve had him since he was a puppy. I was riding through a village one day and he started following after me, wouldn’t let up. I stopped and dismounted, and he practically climbed on me. The poor villagers were certain I was going to be angry that their stray dog had bothered me, but I was rather charmed.”

“No doubt he sensed something of your noble bearing, sir.”

“I think he smelled the meat I had in my saddlebags.” Franz said with a smile. “But your version of the story does make me look better, I admit; perhaps I’ll have to start telling it. I don’t think my parents realized how big he was going to get when they agreed to let me train him.” He turned his smile on Lord Kenneth. “But doubtless you didn’t come to talk about my dog.” 

Kenneth smiled. “Alas, no. I simply wanted to enquire after your comfort, here in the castle. See how you are settling in.” 

_I’m sure you did._ “Well, it’s a lot to get used to, as you might imagine. But I like to think I’m managing. The castle here is lovely and everyone has been ever so genial and hospitable.” 

“Excellent.” Lord Kenneth said, folding his hands on the table. “I hear you brought all your own staff and guards with you as well. That must be a great comfort, being surrounded by familiar faces in a new land.”

“It is.” Franz reached out and poured himself a cup of tea, reflecting that he was starting to miss the coffee that he’d had in the south. Maybe he should try to get some imported. Somehow that hadn’t ended up being part of the trade agreement, which was disappointing. “Especially without the princess here to keep me company. It helps me feel like this really is my home.”

Kenneth nodded. “Still, servants are servants. I find myself worrying that you may be lacking in…companionship.” For just a second his eyes flitted to Boey. “Perhaps you’d be happier around boys closer your age and, ah, social status.” Franz started to say that Boey had squirted more social status onto his chest earlier than Kenneth had in all his bulk, but Boey kicked him under the table. “I have a son about your age, you know. He and a few others were Prince Gavin’s friends, as a matter of fact. Perhaps I could introduce the two of you.” 

“Were?” Franz asked, ignoring the question for now. He took a sip of tea. “Did they have a falling out, or has my future brother’s…extended study session in the countryside taken a toll on their friendship?” 

The slight rise of colour in Lord Kenneth’s face was reward enough for Franz’s efforts. Franz just watched him quietly over the rim of his cup, awaiting an answer. “Forgive me.” He said. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing His Highness the prince, I fear I’ve started to consider him in the past tense. I believe I am not alone in hoping that he will soon return from his studies.” 

“Perhaps I shall ask the king and queen to have him returned to the capital when next I speak with them.” Franz suggested. “They must be lonely with both of their children gone for so long. Besides, I should like to meet him.”

“I, ah, wouldn’t, Highness.” Kenneth said, and if he were a less careful man he’d have been squirming in his chair. Of course, if he were a more careful man, this topic would never have come up. “I shall tell you a secret—alas, the king and queen were not…united in their decision to send the prince off to study. I fear you might cut anew a wound just healed between them.”

“Ah, I see.” Franz nodded, set his cup down. “I would not want to cause strife in my dear Gabrielle’s family before I’ve even had the opportunity to lay eyes on her. I shall leave off the subject for the time being. As for your offer, I shall take you up on it. I’d be very pleased to meet your son and his friends.” 

“Very good.” Kenneth’s relief was nearly palpable. “I shall have Kieran seek you out, then. He has been curious about you, I admit.”

“No doubt.”

“Loathe though I am to part so quickly, Highness,” Lord Kenneth said, standing. He was sweating, Franz saw. “I’d best be going. The affairs of the kingdom will await no man, alas.”

“Of course.” Franz still stayed sitting. “You’ve many coins to count, I’m sure. I appreciate the visit, Lord Kenneth.” 

“The pleasure was all mine, Highness.” Kenneth gave a quarter-bow and strode to the door, looking a little perturbed for just a second when there wasn’t someone there to open it for him. But he saw himself out and Franz waited for several seconds until a soft scratch at the door from his guard told him that Kenneth was out of hearing. 

“I hope his son is less of a blowhard than he is.” Franz muttered. “Or at least a better liar.” Bad liars were just boring. 

“Did he…think he was being subtle?” Boey asked, sounding honestly confused. “Because you’d think he’d be better at it.”

“No, if he was he wouldn’t have made a point of coming here. He’d have met me by chance in a hallway or at dinner or something.” Franz sighed and took a piece of bread, though he mostly just nibbled on it. “Don’t stop me from telling people you’re not a servant.”

“You’re playing your part as the fool, I’m playing mine as the servant.” Boey said simply. “Besides, the longer it goes on, the more embarrassing it’s going to be when they realize it’s not true.” 

“I know.” Franz scowled. He didn’t have to like it for it to make sense. “Still. I suppose I shall make his life easier by making myself easier to spy on.” 

“It was very inconsiderate of you to make it so hard, you know.” Boey said, shaking his head. “It’s hard for them to know how to manipulate you when they can’t get close to you.”

“Alas, I have done the northern nobility a great disservice.” Franz said with a smile. “I must needs rectify that.” 

“I don’t know how you talk like that without laughing. I didn’t know real people still said ‘alas.’” 

“It’s a learned skill, my friend.”

Boey just rolled his eyes. “I wonder what he actually wants.”

“A guess? He’ll wait a while and then suggest a marriage between one of my sisters and his son. I suspect if we dig we’ll find he tried to marry his Kieran to Gabrielle at some point. Ultimately though, it’s going to be…money is too obvious even for him, so probably control. Lands on the border, or near a river or port.”

“I’ll find out where his lands are, what’s close to them.” 

Franz nodded, looking at the door. “Now.” He said quietly. “Here is where it gets fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People are probably getting tired of me linking to my [ Tumblr, ](http://underhandedpenguin.tumblr.com) for which I apologize. I just want to make sure the word is out there so I'm going to mention it once in every story, but then you will never hear from me again on this topic, promise. :)


	6. Politics Make Strange Bedfellows but Also Good Friends

Kieran Wrathwate never stopped smiling. Franz had assumed it was an affectation, but after several hours he was starting to realize that it was genuine, and his return smiles had gotten brighter. It was nice to spend time with someone who was actually friendly. 

“Are you sure you don’t have falconry in the south?” Kieran asked him as Franz held out his arm for a medium-sized raptor to land on. 

“Pretty sure.” Franz smiled. “I mean, we have it. But it’s not something we do a lot of.”

“You’re…good at it, though.”

“Felicia is good at it.” Franz said, stroking the bird’s feathers. “Somebody at the castle trained her, not me. I’m just providing a perch for her.” 

Kieran laughed. He was a very pretty young man. “I guess that’s one way to look at it, sure. I guess I just know too many people who would want to take credit for her skill.” 

“You just know too many nobles, Kieran.” Or possibly too many northerners, but that wasn’t a very nice thing to say. 

That got him another chuckle, and Kieran stroked his own bird fondly. “I tried to make friends with a commoner once, back home before we came to the capital. They were all too afraid of me because of who my parents were. Later my dad told me it was unsightly for a lord and his subjects to be friends. They had to respect me, not like me—even though my sister is going to inherit the land, not me.” 

That story made Kieran’s smile seem a little sad, Franz thought. “You’re not much like your father, are you?” 

Kieran eyed him. “You mean I’m not a complete tool?” He asked with a grin. 

“That’s…not what I was going to say.” Franz coloured just a bit. He hadn’t been expecting Kieran to be that quick on the uptake. 

“No, but it’s what you meant.” Kieran’s tone was teasing. “Did he really just barge into your room while you were eating breakfast to tell you to spend time with me?”

Now it was Franz’s turn to laugh. “Well, he knocked first. You’d be surprised how many people don’t remember how to do that.” 

“I don’t think I would be, really.” Kieran started back to where the bird handlers were waiting for them. “I think it’s a problem in the capital. I mean, our servants at home go in and out too, but I swear the ones here are competing to see who can catch me with my hand in my pants the most.”

And here, Franz thought, they had finally crossed that boundary where they didn’t have to be quite so polite anymore. “I just keep doing it.” Franz confessed. “Eventually they get the hint and get lost.” 

Kieran made a bit of a face. “Maybe I ought to try that next time.” 

“How long has your family been living in the capital?” Franz asked. He already knew, but it was a nice segue. 

“Four years, since dad got named treasurer. I like it here, actually. It’s different from home out east, but there are people here who I’m allowed to go hawking with without having to be lectured about proper noble behaviour.” 

“Are there?” Franz asked, innocently. “All I’ve seen is the parts of the palace around the apartments they’ve given me.” 

“You should meet my other friends. You’d like them.” Kieran gave him a coy smile. “My dad told me I had to say that. But I actually do mean it. You must be lonely, especially since Gab—Princess Gabrielle hasn’t come back yet.” 

“I am a little. And I would like that—and not just because it’s politically useful.” Franz wasn’t sure he’d call himself lonely since he had Boey here with him, but it would be nice to make other friends as well. Especially friends of the politically useful variety. “I would like to talk to someone who’s not a butler sometimes.”

Kieran nodded his understanding. “It’s too bad that…” For the first time his smile fell, just for a second. “It’s too bad that Prince Gavin isn’t here. He’d have liked you.” 

“Hopefully he’ll be back soon.” Franz said evenly. 

“Yeah…uh.” Kieran handed off his bird to the handler and Franz did the same, and waited until they were off a ways before saying anything again. “He’s not in a villa in the countryside, your Highness.” 

“Franz.” Franz said. He’d allowed Kieran to use his title all day as a way of emphasizing distance, but he didn’t think he needed to do that now. “And I know. It’s not as well-kept a secret as people think.” 

“Yeah.” Kieran shook his head. “I get they don’t want to worry the common people, but…” He shrugged, looking away a bit. “I hope he’s okay. He’s alive, or at least he was. He sent a letter to the king to say he was travelling.” 

“I hope he’s okay too.” Franz hadn’t known that last part, and he gave Kieran a look. “Why’d you tell me, though? If they find out I heard it from you…”

“We try not to do the politics thing when we’re together.” Kieran said, sounding a little shy. “I mean, it’s unavoidable because of who we are and who are parents are, but it’s just, you know. Nice to have people you can talk to for real. When we have to do it, we try to tell each other outright about it, so our families can stab each other in the back and we can still be friends, you know?” 

Franz smiled. “I do know, and I like that idea, Kieran.” It was a little naïve, but he did like it. “Too many wars have been fought because of something someone’s parents did forty years ago. It’s stupid.” 

“Exactly!” Kieran beamed. “My father being a tool isn’t a good enough reason for our subjects’ children to die in ten years. I mean, my dad isn’t that bad, but you know what I mean.” 

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“You know, your…Franz. You’re different from what I expected you’d be too.”

“You mean I’m not an idiot?” Franz asked, raising his eyebrows.

Kieran laughed, coloured a little. “Not what I was going to say, but yes.” 

“It’s okay. The only person whose opinion I’m really worried about isn’t here.” Franz shrugged. “But don’t tell your dad that.”

That got him a grin. “I try not to tell my dad too many things.”

“Do tell him enough that he’ll worry less about how little I’m being spied on, would you?” 

“Oh, God.” Kieran laughed again and looked up at the sky as they approached where their horses were hobbled for the ride back to the city. “Dad. He thinks he’s so good at this and you’re already running circles around him.”

“Sorry.” Franz said sheepishly. “I don’t mean to put you at odds with him or anything.”

“No, it’s fine. Just because I don’t like to play politics with my friends doesn’t mean I’m bad at it.” Kieran winked at him. “And I’m not going to inherit my family’s lands or anything, so…”

“The friendship of the queen’s consort is something you’d value, then.”

“Yeah, I mean I like you anyway, but if you want to make it political…”

“God forbid.” Franz said, patting his new friend on the back. “Why don’t we have supper? You can tell me about these other friends of yours.”

“And their families?” Kieran asked, a bit of a gleam in his eye. 

Franz laughed. “Sure, if you want to make it political.”

This had gone better than he’d expected. Franz hadn’t thought to find an ally and a friend all at the same time. He was starting to really like the north.


	7. Eating Is a Human Necessity; Dinner Exists Solely to Facilitate Conversation

“All I’m saying, is that they’re going to be my parents by law, so I shouldn’t have to dress up to eat supper with them.”

“They are the king and queen and you are affianced to their daughter; you don’t want them to think you are a slob.” Boey said calmly, doing up the last tie of the ridiculous bow that Franz was wearing at his neck before going to get his coat. 

“I’ve been here long enough for them to know I’m not; we’ve met a million times. Besides, do you think they’d jeopardize the trade agreement—not to mention their ownership of an important hostage—over my clothes? I could go naked and they probably wouldn’t do much but laugh.”

Boey held out the brocaded coat and Franz dutifully put his arms in the sleeves. “Don’t even think about it.” He advised. “This is a dinner for the king’s council and royal advisors. They’re honouring you by letting you attend. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“They’re patronizing me by letting me attend.” Franz countered, shaking his head. “Who are you, anyway? You’re not Boey—you used the word ‘affianced’ in a completely serious way and you’re trying to make me wear clothes.”

“I’ve always made you wear clothes.” Boey said, cheeks tinted as he did up the coat for Franz. Really, Franz could do that himself, but if he tried Boey would slap his hands away. 

“That is…Boey, you were literally a nudist until you were fourteen. You bitched and complained every time you had to wear clothes and you used to make fun of me for being dressed when I didn’t have to be.” 

“Yes, well.” Boey’s face got a little darker and he finished with the buttons on Franz’s dress coat. “I grew out of that.”

“You did not!” Franz protested, fixing the cuff of his coat and looking at his reflection in the mirror. Even he could admit he looked nice, if in a bit of a stiff way. “You just let people convince you it was unseemly for someone your age.” 

“It’s the same thing.” Boey looked Franz over and smiled. “You look very handsome, my prince.” 

“Well, that’s all that really matters then.” Franz sighed. He’d only been informed of this dinner today. It was going to be a long evening. It was going to be a long lifetime if he couldn’t convince the northerners to stop treating him like a child. “Of course, you’re handsome too and you’re not dressed up like a doll.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Boey smiled a little wider, fiddled with the stupid bow. “I’ll be waiting for you to come back. I’ll help you undress too.”

Franz felt a grin come onto his face. “Now that sounds like a better idea.”

“If you promise to behave at dinner I’ll do some soul-searching while you’re gone, try to rediscover my nudist roots for a while.” 

“Nothing is my favourite thing for you to wear.” Franz admitted, taking Boey’s hand and kissing it. “But only if you want to. I would have behaved anyway.” 

“I know.”

“You should come.”

“This isn’t the south. Companions aren’t invited and you know that. Now go to supper.” Boey said, taking back his hand, hesitating for a second and giving Franz a return kiss on the mouth, before turning him around and pushing him in the direction of the door. 

Sending Franz to a formal function with half a boner had long been a strategy of Boey’s, because it reminded Franz of what was waiting for him if he didn’t space out. And Franz had come back enough times having not paid attention or done as he was supposed to and ended up with just his hand as a bedmate to know better than to slack off. 

It was at times like this that Franz liked to remind himself that he was an adult, and fully competent and perfectly capable of being a noble. It wasn’t so much that he _needed_ Boey to play games with him to remind him to do his job, so much that he just _liked_ it when that happened, and adults were allowed to like whatever they wanted. 

There was a soft knock at the door as Franz crossed into the main room of his apartments, and Franz smiled as he went over and pulled it open. A very startled-looking Frederick was standing there, looking up at Franz in clear surprise. “My prince.” He said, covering his shock that Franz was capable of opening a door quite well. “I’m sorry to disturb you…”

“But they’ve sent you to escort me to dinner.” Franz finished for him, smiling. Frederick nodded. “How very thoughtful of them, to make sure I don’t forget the way to the dining room after all this time.” Frederick of course didn’t say anything and Franz smiled a little at him, following the boy out into the hall. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m just teasing you, and I shouldn’t; it’s not very nice.” 

“It’s quite alright, my prince, please don’t worry about me.” Frederick said, his head down as he led Franz down the hallway. 

“You know you’re the only person so far who’s managed to style me properly.” Franz commented, watching the boy. “Who taught you to do that, I wonder?” 

Frederick blinked, coloured a little. “Your servants are very friendly, my prince.”

“Aha.” Franz smiled. “They are that, aren’t they? I’m glad, I was worried they would have trouble getting along with the people here. You’re a little young to be working in such a difficult job, aren’t you?” 

“My parents were castle servants, my prince.”

Franz heard the ‘were’ and nodded. “You seem very competent. Have they assigned you to mind me all the time, or just some of it?”

“I…I fill in when other people are busy, my prince. I don’t have an official position.” 

Which was probably why they’d sent him to fetch Franz instead of someone with anything resembling status. “I could use a page.” He couldn’t really, but Franz had long since learned that what he wanted wasn’t important. “If you’re interested I could speak to the castle steward.” 

“I…” Frederick went wide-eyed and looked at Franz in a way that was unseemly for someone of his rank. Franz pretended not to notice.

“Only if you wanted—I don’t want to force you into it if you’re happy where you are.” 

“That’s…that’s a position for someone of much higher rank than me, your—my prince.” 

“It’s a position for whomever I say it’s a position for.” Franz smiled. No doubt whomever Frederick reported to would be happy to hear about this as well. Their very own eyes, right inside Franz’s apartments every day. And it was easier for him to control what people heard about him if he knew where their spies were. “Think about it, at least, okay?” 

“I will, my prince. Thank you.”

“I know my title.” Franz said with another smile. “No need to end every sentence with it, okay?”

“O-of course. I apologize, my…sir.” 

“Me being talkative is probably causing you a lot more stress than necessary. I can stay quiet and haughty if you’d prefer.” 

Frederick laughed at that, a surprised giggle that escaped from his mouth all at once. He covered his mouth at once, eyes wide with what might have been worry but looked more like embarrassment. His eyes cast from side to side. “Don’t worry, nobody heard you.” Franz assured him, patting the boy on the shoulder. “I promise, you are always allowed to laugh at my jokes—in fact I’d prefer you did; nobody else thinks they’re funny.”

“I, um. Okay.” 

They were approaching the doors to the dining room and Franz patted Frederick on the back one more time before moving towards them. “Thanks for showing me the way. I’ll see you later.” 

“Yes, my prince.”

Franz nodded at the guards and reached out to open the doors before they could, stepping into the dining room with his best smile on. The king and queen were already there, as were several others, most of whom Franz knew only informally. Kenneth Wrathwate was present, as was the king’s trade minister, the Lady Elenora Suntower, who had a pointed nose and very short hair, in defiance of current fashion among noble ladies. Lord Dominic of the White Nail was beside her, smiling charmingly. He was the king’s backscratcher, according to Boey—the king sent him to deal with minor issues that arose with the kingdom’s nobility before they became major issues. Gelatinous Lady Mia Hardhold and pasty-faced Lord Orwell Feestings were the king’s most prominent military and diplomatic advisors, respectively. Franz was surprised to see Lady Helena Quate, who was ostensibly the king’s domestic minister—dealing with food supply, health, infrastructure and taxation—but according to Boey’s best guess, was also the royal spymaster. Franz let his eyes move over her only briefly like the rest, but she gave a small smirk with one corner of her mouth and he had a feeling she knew what he’d been thinking. 

And of course at the head of the table were seated King Gerard and Queen Georgina ven Sancte. The king was blonde and square looking, and not particularly tall, an inch shorter than Franz when standing. His wife was dark-haired and robust, with gentle eyes that contrasted a sharp smile. Franz bowed just a little deeper than was necessary to them. “Your Graces.” He said, deciding to use the northern style for once. “My lords and ladies. I do hope I haven’t kept you all waiting.” 

“Of course not, Franz.” Georgina gestured Franz towards the only open chair. “Gerard and I only just arrived ourselves.” 

Franz smiled and inclined his head towards her, heading for his seat. He couldn’t help but notice that they’d put him on the wrong side of the table—there were no empty chairs besides his, but there was enough of a gap between the king and queen and the rest of the table that there could have been two further place settings, where Gabrielle and Gavin would sit if they were here. Gabrielle being the heir, her seat would be on the king’s side of the table, near her father, and the chair to which Franz was being pointed was on the queen’s side, just beside where Gavin would normally sit. 

Very strange, Franz thought, or maybe he was just reading too much into it. Maybe Lady Hardhold just hadn’t wanted to give up her seat. 

“How have you been acclimating to the northern climes, Your Highness?” Lady Suntower asked him as he sat himself. She, as trade minister, was largely responsible for the agreement that had brought him here. “It must be quite different from your home in Kyaine.” 

Franz turned his smile on her. “It’s funny. When I was told I’d be coming here, I imagined that everything would be completely alien to me, but what I’m finding is that it is only in the little details that I am homesick—the colours that people wear, the flowers that bloom, the varieties of wine we drink. It’s the little differences to which I must acclimate myself. The larger things are essentially the same here as at home.” Larger things like banal dinner conversation to lead onto something important, he suspected. It was a sort of unspoken rule that nothing of import be discussed before the food had been put on the table. “Everyone I’ve met up here has been so gracious and patient with me as I settle in, I admit it’s helped greatly.” 

“I’m glad.” Lady Suntower said with a nod. “I should be quite distressed were you to come all the way here and be miserable.” 

“You needn’t worry yourself for my happiness, my Lady.” Franz smiled. “I assure you, I am quite content.” 

“I hear you’ve become friends with Kenneth’s boy.” Lady Quate said, measuring him with her eyes. “That must have helped. Someone for you to talk to.” 

“Yes.” Franz tried gamely to return her gaze. “Lord Wrathwate the younger and I have proven to have much in common. I’m glad to have made friends with him—and he’s promised to introduce me to his other friends as well, which I’m looking forward to.” One of those friends was Hector Quate, as it happened. In fact, Kieran was friends with the sons and daughters—or grandchildren, in Lord Feestings’s case—of everyone at this table save Lord Dominic, who didn’t have any. 

The slightest of nods told Franz that his meaning had been taken. “He’s a good boy, Kieran.” 

“He is.” Lord Wrathwate declared. “The best son a man could ask for, if I’m honest, excepting your own Gavin, of course, Your Graces.” 

Talk after that point was, as Franz expected, of the small variety. Questions about orchards and vineyards and a discussion of the forecast for the year’s tin mines, and lots of pointed compliments of the new trade deal with the south. But sure enough, once the food had been served and everyone was eating, the king cleared his throat.

“I wish I could say that I’d brought us all together simply so we could share a meal as friends.” He said, smiling a little. “And certainly that was one of the reasons. But there is some news which I must impart.” 

The table went silent at that as the assembled nobility waited to hear this no doubt momentous news—if it had to be imparted rather than told, surely it was important. Franz sipped some wine, thinking he would have to talk to someone to stop having them water it down. He wasn’t _that_ young. 

“I’ve received a letter from Gabrielle.” Gerard announced. “She and Gavin are returning to the capital.” 

The surprise was palpable, and nobody seemed sure what to say. “At long last.” Lord Feestings declared. “The realm will feel the more joyous for it.” He didn’t sound very joyous, but Franz suspected that ‘dour’ was his default mode of expression. 

“And the outlaw who kidnapped the prince?” Lady Quate asked, and Franz glanced in her direction with a smile, which went largely unnoticed as everyone tried to pretend not to be scandalized that she’d let slip such a secret. “What’s become of him?”

“He is in custody.” The king assured her with a patient nod. 

“Gabrielle’s letter was somewhat terse.” Georgina said, and at least part of her attention was definitely on Franz. “Gavin himself wrote one as well, which was equally lacking in detail. Time away from the capital has robbed my children of social graces, I fear.”

“Yet the villain is in custody.” Lord Wrathwate said, with a nod. “As expected from such a fine knight as the Princess Gabrielle.” 

“You’ve all a rather low opinion of tutors in the north.” Franz said, to his wine glass. “Calling them outlaws and dragons, accusing them of kidnapping. Is education really so dangerous up here?”

Another silence fell and they all regarded him with various degrees of wariness. Franz just smiled expectantly as if waiting for an answer. None of them seemed to know what to say for a moment, but then Gerard smiled. “The deception was never for your benefit, Franz. There’s no need to pretend to be fooled by it.” 

“Maybe not.” Franz might easily have commented on the fact that, for all that they’d not been trying to trick him, nobody had ever made a point of telling him the truth. “In that case, I’m relieved to hear that your son is in good health, Your Grace. You both must have been terrified for him.” 

“Indeed so.” Gerard sounded sincere in that, though Kieran had told Franz about the letter that Gavin had sent at the beginning of the winter telling everyone he was fine and travelling with someone. So surely the king and queen must have already known that their son had been safe. It did make Franz wonder about this outlaw whom Gabrielle had supposedly apprehended. 

Maybe she could tell him about it when they were eventually able to have a conversation. “I shall look forward to meeting the both of them when they return. Especially the Princess Gabrielle, of course.” 

“No doubt.” 

“When might we expect them back in the capital, Your Grace?” Lord Dominic asked. “Did they give any indication?” 

“Gavin was found quite far north, in Merket.” Georgina said, a little distaste in her tone. “It will likely be a few weeks yet before they are able to make it back.” 

“We shall have to host a banquet on their return.” Lord Feestings declared in a rasp. “To celebrate.” 

“Though,” Lady Hardhold added, “we must be careful that we don’t let it get out that we’re celebrating anything other than the return—Gavin has been safe this whole time, after all.” 

“Indeed, my Lady, indeed. Now is hardly the time to allow the story to unfurl.”

“All the more important now, I should think.” Franz said. “You wouldn’t want it getting about that he’s been in the company of an outlaw all these months.”

“A fair point.” Lady Suntower nodded at Franz. “Where before we risked panic, now we risk rumours that could smudge his Highness’s reputation among the people.” There was a lot of thoughtful assent to that, as if it had been her idea and not Franz’s. 

The conversation carried on from there, and Franz participated just enough to make sure everyone in the room wouldn’t forget that he was there, but mostly he kept silent, listening and watching them as they talked. This was an almost entirely new group of people for him, so he tried over the course of the evening to suss out who was working together, who wasn’t, who liked each other and who didn’t, what was beneath words and in between them. He wondered how much of what they were saying would change if they were in smaller groups, if the king and queen weren’t present, if they were alone. 

It was the most fun he’d had at dinner since he’d come to the north. It was almost as much fun as finding on his return to the apartments after dark that Boey had remembered his hatred of clothes.


	8. It's Not Entirely Surprising when Royalty Is a Bit Spoiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are so many plot things going on that the only logical thing to have happen at this point in the story is sex. So here is some sex.

“Hey, Boey?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to have sex?”

Boey looked up at Franz. It was pretty dark, and they were playing a round of cards before bed. He appeared to consider the offer. “Sure.” 

“Awesome.” Franz picked up a card and frowned at it. 

“You have a terrible poker face.”

“No, I do not.” Franz countered. “We don’t really need to finish this game, though, right? Let’s just skip to the part where there’s sex.”

“No, let’s finish the game.”

They finished the game, and Franz won quite handily because Boey always fell for Franz pretending to be bad. He stretched as Boey tidied the cards into a nice pile, and then moved out from the table to wrap his arms around Boey’s middle. “Now for something even more fun.”

“Yeah.” Boey smiled, turned into the embrace and gave Franz a nice kiss. “We could even do it right here on the table if you want. But we’d have to clean up after.”

“That is tempting.” Franz admitted. “But I was thinking the bed would be good. I was thinking that maybe we could…” 

Boey raised his eyebrows. “Could what?”

“You know.”

“Franz, don’t you think we’ve been doing this for long enough that you can say things without having to be shy?”

“I’m not shy!” Franz protested, squirming a little. He was getting hard already. “I just… you know what I mean.”

Boey did, Franz could see it in his eyes. “No, I don’t.” He lied, smiling. “You’ll have to tell me.”

“As your prince, I command you to stop being coy.” Franz said, colour rising up his neck.

“Nope.” Boey said, kissing Franz on the chin. “You’re too spoiled. If you want something, you have to tell me what it is. I’m not reading your mind.”

“Oh, for…” Franz sighed, frustrated. “I want to fuck you. You know, in the butt.”

“That was a very romantic proposal.” Boey chuckled.

“Shut it! It always sounds weird saying it right out like that. That’s why I _wasn’t_ , which you know.”

“Sure.” Boey said, pulling away from Franz and taking his hand, leading him to the bedroom. “If you say so.” 

Franz let Boey pull him along. “So…that’s a yes?”

“No.” Boey said, and they made it into the bedroom and Boey closed the door on Dragon, who had made to follow them. They could hear him whinging on the other side, but that would stop once they got started. They always scared the dog and he would just end up wanting to be let out of the bedroom halfway through. Very few things killed the mood as effectively as Dragon being pathetic.

“Aw.” Franz said. He wasn’t going to push Boey into something he didn’t want to do though. “Okay, but why not? I mean if you don’t want to that’s fine. But I feel like it’s been ages since we have.”

“Three weeks.” Boey said, undoing Franz’s shirt. 

“Why, though?” Franz asked. 

“It’s my turn to be on top.” Boey told him as the shirt came off. 

“Oh.’ Franz paused, a little embarrassed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s actually been my turn for a while. You’ve topped the last three times. I let you go on my turn and then the next time you declared that it was your turn again.”

Now Franz was even more embarrassed. “Um. Sorry?”

“I told you, you’re too spoiled. So if that’s what you want to do, I get on top this time.”

Franz gave Boey puppy eyes by way of appeal, but Boey just stood there, coldhearted and unaffected. Franz didn’t dislike being on bottom particularly, but he did prefer the top and he was definitely guilty of trying to take more than his share of turns. Usually Boey didn’t seem to mind, but Franz knew that it wasn’t really fair. “Okay.” He said after a minute.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Franz repeated, reaching out and fiddling with the buttons on Boey’s shirt. “You can be on top. It’s your turn. I’m sorry for being so selfish.”

Boey laughed a little. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, Franz. I wouldn’t have let you take my turn if I really didn’t want to.” He took a step back, holding Franz in place so he couldn’t reach the buttons. Instead, Boey went for Franz’s pants. “But we do take turns for a reason.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Franz smiled. “I’ll make it up to you. You can have three turns since I took three. And I’ll be the best bottom you ever had.”

“You’re the only bottom I’ve ever had, you dumbass.” Boey muttered, shaking his head as he got Franz’s pants undone and pushed them to the floor. 

Franz had been including any future partners Boey might have, but now wasn’t the time to bring that up as Boey tugged at his smallclothes and Franz obediently stepped out of them. “Get on the bed.” Boey said with a gentle push, and Franz did as he was told while Boey went to go get the bottle of oil from the dressing table. 

“Here.” He said, passing it to Franz and starting at his own buttons. “Can you get yourself ready?”

“Uh, why?” Franz asked. Normally they prepared each other for this. 

“I want to watch you.” Boey said with a smile that brought all the heat back to Franz’s face. 

“S-sure.” Franz stuttered, and he uncorked the bottle and lay back a bit, trying to get a hold of himself. He and Boey had done this a million times; they’d taken each other’s virginity years ago. Companions were pretty much expected to be sex partners. At home, they hadn’t even had to hide that they were having sex. Nothing about it was that big a deal. 

His confidence bolstered a little, Franz oiled up his fingers and passed the bottle back to Boey, who paused with his pants half down to take it and set it aside. Franz was already hard, but he could see that Boey was only halfway there inside his smallclothes. 

He suspected that could change quickly and he was right. Franz repositioned a little so he could better reach himself, spreading some of the oil on his skin there, any by the time he’d inserted the first finger Boey was undressed and quickly rising to full mast. 

Franz fingered himself carefully, more turned on than he cared to admit that Boey was watching. When he inserted the second finger, trying not to squirm in discomfort, Boey uncorked the oil again and started pouring it out onto his palm. 

Boey watched Franz stretch himself, and Franz watched Boey slick up his erection, in slow strokes that he matched to his breathing. He kept going even after he was fully oiled, masturbating himself as he watched Franz. 

Reminding himself that he’d hurt himself if he went too fast, Franz scissored his fingers even as he stretched to push them further in. He added the third one, making a sad little noise as it went in, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his face and chest. 

Franz always forgot that he did actually like this feeling. He fit the three fingers in as far as they could go, feeling like he might dislocate his shoulder in the effort to get them in a bit farther. Boey was bigger than his fingers, and besides, he was close to that spot inside him, but he couldn’t quite reach it and he could _feel_ that he was almost there, and he was panting now and wriggling on the bed, trying to get those fingers just a bit farther in so he could touch it just once…

“You look like you’re having some trouble.” Boey said, letting himself go and crawling over until he was between Franz’s legs. “Do you need help, my prince?” Franz nodded, knowing he looked a little pathetic but already beyond caring. “What’s the matter?”

“Boey…” Franz whinged.

“Oh, am I the problem?” Boey asked, leaning down and kissing Franz on the belly. “Should I leave?” 

“No, I…” He needed Boey not to tease him. 

“Not reading your mind, Franz.” Boey said, moving upwards with another kiss. 

“I…I need…”

“Are you having some trouble reaching something?” Boey asked, taking pity on him. A little, at least. Franz nodded. “Would you like some help reaching it?” Franz nodded again, still straining to get his fingers further in. “What would you like me to use to help you reach it, Franz?”

“You!” Franz cried. “Fuck. You, Boey. Your cock. Just fuck me.”

“Hm.” Boey was up to Franz’s neck now. “Remember what I said about being spoiled?” It had been a while since Boey had been this dominant. It was nice, but Franz was really only appreciating it in a kind of desperate way at the moment. “Why don’t you try asking, instead of ordering?”

“I…God.” Franz panted, eyes squeezed shut. If he could just _reach_. “P-please.” He managed. “Please can you fuck me, Boey, please?”

“There you are.” Boey said, and a hand clasped about his own, pulling Franz’s fingers out and eliciting a moan. “How hard was that?” 

Franz didn’t answer, but he felt Boey pressing against him, and sliding in, and moaned again in sheer relief at the size, at how solid it was. Boey pressed in a little over halfway before stopping, wrapping one arm around Franz to lift his back up a little and the other to brace himself on the bed. He pulled out and kissed Franz as he started to push back in. He did that a few times, in and out, never going all the way in, never quite reaching where Franz wanted him to reach.

Until he did, with one deep thrust that drew a gasp out of Franz, Boey pushed all the way in and hit it. “That what you wanted?” Boey asked in a mutter. Franz nodded. “I thought so.” 

So Boey pulled back and hit it again, and again and again. Franz cried out with every thrust, seeing stars. He wrapped his arms around Boey’s neck, kissing him back as he thrust in and out, moving in tune with Boey, a synchronicity that they’d had for a long time. 

Franz came with a strangled cry that Boey swallowed, his whole body tensing and clenching and tightening as he made a mess on both their bellies and chests. Boey kept fucking him through it and after, the only thing holding Franz up, his breath coming in strained grunts as he got closer. When he finally shot inside Franz, it was with a low groan that petered out into panting as he finishing spurting heat inside. 

Boey dropped Franz and they both fell onto the bed, hugging each other and gasping for breath. “Thank you.” Franz managed with a smile. 

“Thank _you_.” Boey countered, and he got up with a groan, made as if to pull out.

Franz wrapped his legs around Boey’s waist, trying to keep him in place. “What are you doing?” 

“This isn’t an ideal cuddling position.”

“Who said it was cuddling time?” Franz demanded. “I’m sure you can go again. And I’m pretty sure I owe you three turns.” 

Boey looked down at him, his smile shifting from content to amused. “And you want them all at once?” Franz nodded, and Boey kissed him. “Typical.” He muttered, settling back down. “You’re honestly are so spoiled.”

“Sorry.” Franz really wasn’t.

“You’re lucky I like giving you what you want.” Boey muttered, grinning. He thrust all of the sudden, and both of them gasped a little with the sensitivity. “Bet I can make you scream this time.”

He did.


	9. Choosing New Staff Is Something that Must be Done Carefully

“The thing is, I have a lot of servants already who do my laundry and fetch food for me and all that, so it’s not that you’ll never do that, but you won’t spend all of your time on it.” Franz said, watching carefully as Frederick tried gamely not to fidget. The lad had a very good blank face that he used to hide any discomfort he was feeling. Franz suspected he was a good liar. 

He didn’t know yet if Frederick would be using that skill on his behalf or if it was just something he was going to have to learn to see through, but either way it was good for Franz to know. 

“A lot of what you’ll be doing for me is taking and running messages.” Franz paused, attention moving from Frederick standing there in his smallclothes on the little stand to the tailor, holding up two competing shades of green. Franz indicated the one he wanted and kept going. “You can read and write, can you?” 

“I can, my prince.” Frederick hesitated. “A little.” 

“I’ll teach you, then. Part of the point of this, at least in the south, is that you should come away from it when you’re older with useful skills.” The tailor draped a bit of fabric on Frederick and Franz scowled at it, waving it away. “And if there are things I ask you to do that you can’t, or that you don’t think you can do well enough, you must tell me immediately. I would rather take the time to teach you something now than clean up a mess that you made trying to do something you weren’t capable of.” 

“Yes, my prince.” 

“And you’re going to have to stop doing that after every sentence.” Franz reminded him, and the tailor finished up, writing something in his book. 

“Franz, you can’t expect the boy not to use his courtesies.” Boey put in from the other side of the room. 

Franz glanced at him, and then back to Frederick. “We’re going to be talking a lot, so can we compromise, at least? If you must remind us both of social distance, just call me ‘sir’ unless there are people around.” 

“Yes, my…” Frederick looked at Boey, and then at the tailor, clearly trying to decide if they constituted ‘people.’ “Yes, sir.”

“There you go.” The tailor was a tall man with too much hair everywhere, and he finished putting his things away and bowed to Franz. “All finished?” Franz asked. 

“Yes, your highness.” An hour listening to Frederick do it properly and he hadn’t caught on. Maybe it was all the hair in his ears. “I should have some things ready for him in a day or so, but the full wardrobe will take some weeks.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate your haste. I can’t have my page running around in his smallclothes.” Or in the castle livery. Frederick needed to be dressed as befit one of Franz’s personal servants. To his credit, Frederick had understood that almost immediately when Franz had told him about the appointment with the tailor, and today had stripped to his smallclothes without hesitation when Franz had told him to. 

He’d considering having Frederick take those off too, but there was a line to be tread between training him to follow orders and being mean. Besides, Franz wanted Frederick to be comfortable around him as much as possible, and forcing him into a situation that made him uncomfortable was counterproductive. 

“Undoubtedly not, your highness.”

“Do try to make some of them out of fabrics that aren’t too heavy. We are coming on whatever passes for summer up here; I don’t want him sweltering to death.”

“Yes, sire.” The tailor bowed again and Franz excused him with a nod, and the man left the three of them alone. 

Franz sighed once the door clicked shut and stretched out his shoulders a bit. He and Kieran had had an archery contest earlier—he’d lost—and he was still sore. He would get Boey to rub his back later, probably, and maybe have a bath. 

Actually… “Frederick…” Franz looked up at him, realized he was just standing there. “Okay, first. You don’t need my permission to get dressed. Though if you would prefer to remain unclothed you may certainly do so.” 

“Ah.” Frederick coloured a little. “I’m sorry, sir.” He stepped down from the little stool and retrieved his clothes from the endtable, going about dressing himself. 

“He was being serious, Frederick.” Boey said, watching both of them. “Franz doesn’t care what you wear when nobody is around.” 

“We stand on ceremony when we must.” Franz agreed. “Elsewise sitting is quite acceptable.”

“You sound like an idiot.”

“You’re just jealous because it comes naturally to me.” 

“Alas.” Boey muttered, shaking his head. “Not all of us can naturally sound like an idiot.” And Franz had walked into that, so he nodded and let Boey have the victory.

Poor Frederick was stuck there, looking back and forth between the two of them with one leg in his pants, obviously uncertain of what was happening. Franz smiled at him. “One thing I will never require you to do is pretend that you can’t hear me when I’m talking to someone else.” He said. “If I am speaking and you are in the room, you have every right to listen and in fact I would prefer if you did. Sometimes it is helpful to have an extra person who remembers what I said about something yesterday so I don’t contradict myself and look like too much of a fool.” 

“I can do that, my prince.”

“I’m sure you can.” Franz smiled. He had no doubt that Frederick was listening to everything he said. “When we are alone—and when I say alone I’m sure you’ve figured out that I mean you, me and Boey—you may ask me any questions that you have, about anything. I promise you a question will never offend me. I may choose not to answer, but you are always welcome to ask.”

“I understand, sir. May I…may I ask, then about…”

“My relationship with my servant?” Franz asked with a little smile. Frederick nodded, colouring a little. “Boey is indeed my retainer. But he is also my best friend. Rather than a servant, I would prefer you to think of him as an…advisor.” That was still less than what Boey was to him, but it was good enough for Frederick, at least for now. How quickly that got out and to whom would be his first test of the boy. “He would prefer if people continued to think of him as my body servant, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Frederick nodded, and Franz saw understanding there. He was quite a clever boy, as it turned out. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask about?” Franz asked, seating himself on a sofa. “I’m sure you must be overwhelmed by all this.” 

“A little, sir.” Frederick finally finished dressing and stood straight. “But I’m okay. Um. Thank you very much for doing all of this for me.”

“No need for thanks.” Franz smiled at him. “I hope that I can help you grow in exchange for all the help you’ll be to me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Would you go in there and draw the bath for me?” Franz made it a question rather than an order. Servants weren’t often used to being shown a lot of courtesy. People were often swayed by kindness more than power. 

“Of course, my prince.” Frederick said, starting in that direction without pause.

“Thank you. After you’ve finished that you can retire for the night.” He’d had a little room set aside down the hall for Fredrick to use—as a page he should really sleep in Franz’s apartments, but that wasn’t going to happen, at least not yet. 

“Thank you, sir.” Frederick disappeared into the other room, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Still think this was a bad idea?” Franz asked Boey. 

“Yes.” Boey leaned forward in his chair and affixed Franz with a look. “It was one of yours, after all.”

“Hey, all my ideas are good ideas.” Boey just looked at him some more. “Some of my ideas are good ideas. This was one of them.”

“Bringing someone you don’t know on as a personal servant because they tried to use him to insult you is clever.” Boey admitted, grudgingly. “But I don’t like a stranger in our space—especially since you already know he’s a spy.”

“I suspect he’s a spy.” Franz corrected. “I don’t know anything.” He did know that Frederick had only waited a week before coming back to him and asking if he’d meant it when he’d offered to make the boy his page, and that the castle steward hadn’t seemed to mind the request at all. 

“Yes, that’s always been apparent.”

“Hey!” But Franz had walked into that one too, so he shook his head. “It’ll be fine. It’s not like he’s going to be lurking over my shoulder all the time, and you’ll notice that he has a room separate from ours.” 

“He’s also not stupid.”

“I’m hoping that will be useful.” Franz said. “And even if it’s not, you must agree that having a measure of control over what people hear about us is important, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” Boey sighed. “I just liked having a place where we didn’t have to act is all.”

“I know.” Franz got up and went over to Boey, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “I’m sorry.” He knew that he put Boey through a lot of crap, and probably always would. 

“It’s fine.” Boey smiled up at him.

“Do you really not like him, or do you just not like that I did it without talking to you first?” 

Boey sighed, shook his head. “Mostly the second thing.” He admitted. “He seems like a nice kid.” 

“But not entirely the second thing, though.”

Boey shrugged. “He’s a spy. And he kept looking at me nervously when he thought we couldn’t see.”

“You make him nervous.” Franz said, though he knew that wasn’t entirely it. “He knows you don’t like him.”

“No, he was trying to see if I was a bodyguard or not. _You_ make him nervous.”

“I’m supposed to make him nervous.” A little bit, at least at first. Hopefully he would get over it.

“That why you made him stand there naked for an hour?”

“He was wearing smallclothes, it wasn’t an hour, and yes, but only partially. He needs to be comfortable around us.”

“Which you’re accomplishing by making him nervous.”

“Can we accept the premise that I know how to train a servant?” Franz asked, a little exasperated. 

Boey eyed Franz skeptically. “I’m willing to conditionally accept that premise, pending results.” 

“Thank you.”

“You were ogling him.” Boey said suddenly. 

“I was…” Franz coloured, glared at Boey. “I was not. He’s nine years old.”

“He’s twelve years old.”

Oh. Trust Boey to have done his research. “Still. That’s quite a bit younger than the group of people I prefer to ogle, thank you very much.”

“I hope so.”

“Speaking of which, we should make you an appointment with a tailor. Or I could just take your measurements.”

Boey was clearly not impressed. “I didn’t mean that I thought you were actually ogling him. I meant that if he or that tailor decides to tell people what happened today, that’s the impression that will get out.”

“Oh.” Franz stepped back from Boey with a small frown. He wasn’t wrong. “Oops. I hadn’t considered that.” It was a nice test to see who was reporting to whom, but that wasn’t really a rumour Franz wanted getting around. He didn’t necessarily mind people thinking unpleasant things about him, but that was going a bit far. “We’ll have to make sure that doesn’t get out, then.”

“Yes. And this is why I’d prefer you talk to me about things rather than just doing them on your own, Franz.” Boey stood, put his hands on Franz’s hips. “We’ve always done things together. Let’s keep it that way, okay?”

“Okay.” Franz looked away sheepishly. “Sorry.” He hadn’t meant to exclude Boey. He’d just thought this was straightforward enough that it didn’t matter overly. 

“It’s okay.” Boey smiled, and parted from Franz, moving past him. “Dragon likes him, so it can’t have been that bad an idea.” 

Franz started to snark back, but he thought about it and nodded, because that was a fair point. “He likes Dragon, too.” He said. The dog was outside at the moment, but when he’d spoken to Frederick yesterday Dragon had sniffed him all over and then lain at his feet, and Frederick had happily scratched him behind the ears and rubbed his belly. Today he’d brought Dragon a treat, even. “It probably says something that the only one he’s not nervous about is the three hundred pound mastiff.” 

“It probably does.” Boey agreed, looking around for his book. “Dragon’s only dangerous if you’re a pork chop, so he’s obviously pretty observant.” 

“Maybe I should make minding Dragon part of his duties.” Franz mused. 

“My prince?” Frederick had reappeared in the doorway. “Your bath is ready.”

Franz smiled at him. “Thank you.” He headed in that direction, undoing the buttons on his shirt as he went. “Don’t worry.” He said, patting the boy on the shoulder. “I’ve been told I’m quite good at bathing myself.”

Frederick laughed a little, uncertainly. “Yes, sir.”

“You can head out for now. I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

“Thank you, my prince. Good day.” Frederick said, and Franz nodded and watched him go. And then after he’d gone, Franz watched Boey watching the door, obviously thinking hard about something. 

“Would it make you feel better if I got you to do a lot of his training?” 

“Yes.” Boey admitted. “Though I assumed you were going to anyway.”

“I was.” Franz smiled. “Are you going to have a bath with me?”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Franz nodded and headed into the bath, smiling to himself. This was going to work out just fine, he was sure of it.


	10. Getting off on the Right Foot is Important in a Burgeoning Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! A bunch of new characters! If you know me at all, you are not likely to be surprised.

“My mother wants to talk to you.” 

Franz turned a smile on Hector Quate. “I hope you aren’t expecting me to be surprised.” 

“‘I don’t expect,’” Hector said, sitting straighter in his saddle and putting on a faux-feminine voice that came with an antique accent. “‘He will be particularly surprised. But do let the prince know that I’m anticipating the occasion.’ Is what she said last night.” 

“Does Lady Helena know that you think she sounds like a character in a play?” Franz asked sweetly. 

Hector laughed and gave Franz a friendly shove in his saddle. He was a slender boy who comported himself in such a way that it was clear he was trying not to be taken as pretty. 

“Hector thinks everyone has a weird accent.” Olivia Feestings told Franz from his other side. “Not sure where he thinks we’re all from, but…” She shrugged.

“Oh, screw off.” Hector made a rude gesture, looking off into the woods to avoid eye contact. They had all ridden out to a nearby forested area for a hunting trip, though they hadn’t actually hunted anything and had just spent the whole time chatting. Franz was enjoying getting to know all of Kieran’s other friends. And the heirs to the various lords and ladies of the court. “You call everyone Lord What’s-His-Name because you can’t be bothered to remember their names.” 

“Pf.” Olivia coloured a little. “My grandfather wants to talk to you too.” 

“Wow, I’m popular.” Franz commented. “Must be my friendly disposition.”

“I feel like it’s probably more because of your cock.”

“Gross, Hector.”

“You going to tell me I’m wrong?” Hector seemed a little pleased with that. 

“No, just mentioning that boys are disgusting. No offence, Franz. You seem okay.”

“Well, I am on my best behaviour at the moment.” Franz admitted. “But I shall endeavour not to besmirch your high opinion of me.”

“You sound like Kieran’s father.” 

“Hey.” A voice came from their left, and Kieran emerged from the trees, followed by the very tall Matthew Hardhold and Olivia’s brother Turner. “I told you to be _nice_ to Franz, not insult him.”

“I notice that all of your combined testosterone was not enough to catch that deer.” Olivia said, smiling at them. 

“You’re the one who didn’t want to come.” Turner accused.

“I didn’t want to waste my time when I could be taking to Franz. Although he just used the word ‘besmirch’ in a sentence so maybe I should be avoiding him.”

“‘Besmirch’ is a perfectly good word.” Franz insisted. “It has gravitas.” 

“Kill me now.” 

“Are we too early in our friendship for me to call you an uneducated northern barbarian?” Franz asked, smiling to demonstrate that it was a joke. “Or should I just imply it and move on?” 

There was a silence for just a second and Franz wondered if he’d overstepped a bit, but on his other side there was a snort, and by the time he turned all the way Hector was laughing so hard there was a danger he might fall out of the saddle. “Well, it wasn’t that funny.” 

Hector shook his head, still laughing. “It’s not that, it’s not that. It’s…” He broke off for another fit. “It’s Olly and Turner. The same look on both their faces. Like they can’t decide if they want to break your nose or kiss you.” 

“Shut up!”

“Fuck off, Hector.” Turner grumbled, and the two of them were definitely wearing the same expression now. 

Matthew just sort of stoically patted Turner on the back in what was probably supposed to be comfort. “You’re all making Franz think we’re insane.”

Kieran was laughing too, though it was a slightly more dignified chuckle. “All of the best people are insane.” He asserted. “But really we’re just making him think we’re fun, that’s all.”

“No.” Franz said, shrugging. “I definitely think you’re insane.” And also fun, to be fair. 

“And here I came to your defence.” 

“Sorry, Kieran.” Franz grinned. “It’s the proclivity of nobles to stab one another in the back, after all.” 

“You’ve got me there.” Kieran made a face. “‘Proclivity?’” 

“When was it written that using intelligent words makes me somehow less fun?” Franz demanded. “What’s wrong with a good vocabulary?” 

“What’s wrong with talking like a real person?” Hector wanted to know.

“Nothing, but real people talk this way too.”

“Like my dad.” 

“Lord Wrathwate, I regret to inform you that your father is in fact a real person.” 

“Alas…” Kieran got everyone else laughing at that, though he managed to keep a relatively straight face. Franz smiled. It was nice to have proper friends. 

“Have we given up on hunting altogether?” A female voice asked, approaching from the woods. Susanna Suntower resembled her mother but had dark eyes that Franz had heard didn’t belong to either of her parents. She was unstringing an impressively long bow as she rode up to them. Beside her was Gloria Sanct, who was a cousin of Gabrielle’s by the king’s deceased brother. Franz wasn’t all that worried about looks and beauty, but if Gabrielle happened to resemble her cousin overly, that wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. “I swear, you’re so easily distractible. This is why boys shouldn’t be left unsupervised.” 

“Excuse me.” Olivia protested.

“Sorry. Boys, Olivia and Turner.”

“Hey!”

Shooting Turner a sympathetic glance, Hector cocked his head at Susanna. “Did you get anything, Sue?” 

“Of course she didn’t.” Gloria said with a strange half-smile. “Though she’ll tell you it’s because the noise you lot were making scared away all the game in the kingdom.” 

“We aren’t being _that_ loud.” Matthew muttered, which was easy for him to say. Franz couldn’t tell if he was quiet because he was just quiet, or if it was just that it was hard to get a word in edgewise sometimes. 

“Loud enough.” Susanna huffed. “The porters will have set up lunch by now. Shall we head in that direction?” 

“Sure.” Kieran smiled at Susanna and directed his horse off down the path, the rest of them following after him. 

With a glance at Franz, Hector hung back a bit, so Franz did as well. They didn’t fall too far back and were probably still in hearing of the rest of the group. Franz could hear their chatter, anyway. “I wanted to bring something up.” Hector said, looking up into the trees. 

“I’m listening.” 

“It’s not important. And it’s not about politics or anything. Just, uh, well it’s a small town and we all know each other and everyone else knows about it and I’d rather you hear about it from me than from some weird rumour or something.” 

Franz watched Hector, the way he was worrying at his reigns and carefully not making eye contact. “You don’t have to be nervous.” He promised, wondering what this was about. 

Hector shot him a small smile that was clearly exactly that. “When I was born everyone thought I was a girl. Because…you know, body parts and stuff. And, uh…well, they were wrong, and I’m a boy, and I was miserable growing up and it’s a little better now and I don’t care what you think or really want your opinion or anything. I’m just telling you because…well I’m just telling you.” 

Franz watched Hector for a careful minute, considering a response. Boey had heard some strange rumours about Helena Quate possibly having once had a daughter even though she only had one child and it was Hector, but Franz supposed that cleared that up. “Why Hector?” He asked, and when Hector blinked at him, he continued, “It’s a southern name, isn’t it? Why you’d pick it? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Oh, uh…” Hector didn’t seem sure what to say. “I just, well. I liked it, I guess. It sounded masculine and everything. I used to write stories when I was little about a noble boy named Hector who went on adventures. I guess I realized at some point I was writing about myself.” 

Franz nodded, and he smiled. “I have a younger sister, or rather I have two, but the point is we didn’t know Dahlia was a girl until she told us a couple of years ago, so…” He shrugged. “I guess what I mean is that it’s not a foreign concept to me.” 

“Well.” Hector was looking at him, smiling vaguely. “I feel silly making a thing of it.”

“Don’t.” Franz shook his head. “I’m sorry. That you had to tell me at all when it’s none of my business. Especially since we just met. But you’re probably right that I would have heard something eventually, so hearing it from the source was probably for the best all around.” 

“Yeah.” Hector chuckled a little. “I mean, I’m not ashamed of it or anything. But you’re right, it’s not really any of your business.”

“Or at least it shouldn’t be.” 

“Yeah.” Hector shook his head now. “Whatever. Anyway, on the grounds of you not being an asshole, I guess we can make you one of the boys.” 

“Great.” Franz grinned. “We can drink and fight and make chauvinistic remarks about women together.” 

“Probably should tell you that Susanna’s bow isn’t for show, Olivia was about a week from becoming a knight before she dropped out of training and Gloria has a lot of weird connections and could probably have us all killed. Plus you know, Gabrielle can just break us all over her knee.” 

Franz laughed. “So we’ll stick to just the first two things, then.”

“Matthew and Kieran are total lightweights and Turner fights like an angry cat. How do you feel about us collectively taking up needlepoint or something?” 

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to sew.” 

Still chatting, they rejoined the rest of the group. It was turning out to be a pretty good day.


	11. Homesickness Can Strike at Any Time

“What’s the Suntower family’s crest?” 

“It’s a blue tower with a bird perched on it.”

“Good. Do you know why?”

Frederick hesitated. “Um, no. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing every time you don’t know the answer.” Boey sighed. “It’s not your fault nobody ever told you.”

“Right. So, um. Why is that their crest?”

“I don’t know either.” Boey admitted. “I asked because I thought you might. It seems like the tower should have colours to do with, I don’t know, maybe the sun or something.”

Frederick giggled at that, and Franz smiled a little. He was only vaguely listening to the two of them, curled up and reading a letter his father had written him. But he was glad that Boey and Frederick were starting to get along. Or at least that Boey was pretending to get along.

“You seem to have a pretty good grip on noble heraldry.” Boey said, and Franz suspected it wasn’t as innocent a comment as it seemed.

“Well…I grew up in the castle.” Frederick sounded uncertain. Maybe he’d picked up on the poison point in the unspoken question. “I see the crests all the time. I used to really like looking at them all.”

Boey nodded. “Fair enough. We just need to get you to the same point with letters and numbers as you are with crests.”

“Letters and numbers are _hard_ , though.” Frederick grumbled, and Boey tapped him on the head with a rolled-up paper. “Sorry.”

“You’re getting better at them.” Boey glanced up at Franz briefly. “I think that’s enough for tonight. You should get to bed. The prince is having lunch with Lady Hardhold tomorrow, so be here with breakfast and be prepared to learn a lot about her.”

“Right. Thank you, Boey, sir.” Frederick was clearly uncertain how to address Boey, and Boey didn’t seem interested in correcting him. He nodded and Frederick stood, facing Franz. “My prince.”

“Goodnight, Frederick.” Franz said, smiling at him as well. “You did well tonight.”

“Thank you, sir.” Frederick said, making for the door. “Goodnight.”

Franz nodded, eyes going back down to the letter as the door shut.

Boey came and sat next to him on the sofa. “He’s learning quickly.”

“Too quickly?”

“A little, but nothing that can’t be written off as him just being smart.” 

“That’s good; he’s clever.”

“Are you okay?” 

Franz looked over at Boey, thrown by the change of topic. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

“What does the letter say?” Boey cuddled up beside Franz. Dragon had been sitting under the table, but he’d woken up when Frederick had stood and now wandered over and stood there as if contemplating how he could get on the sofa with them too. 

“Felix fell off a horse and broke his finger, but he’s fine.” Franz said, looking down at it. “Dahlia’s annoyed with the Chesthower twins over something, Uncle Hans wants to mount an expedition to the Fury Plateau to sort out whatever’s been happening down there, mom’s got a new lady-in-waiting, Flora’s been asking if she can come visit me. The Fyrhawks are trying to make their claim on the River Nyl again, and everyone’s worried it will come to swords this time. There was a dragon spotted over the Catech woods, but nobody’s that worried about it.” Franz shrugged. “Nothing unusual, everyone’s fine.” 

“That’s good.” Boey said, taking Franz’s free hand. “I’m glad. You were reading it so carefully, I was a bit worried.”

“Sorry.” Franz smiled. He’d just been thinking about home, was all. “I guess I got a little distracted.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah…” Franz looked down at the letter again, not quite willing to put it down. “I just…”

“Come here.” Boey shifted, straightening a little, and pulling Franz closer to him, resting Franz’s head on his shoulder. “You miss them.”

“Yeah.” Franz nodded, closing his eyes and snuggling a little closer. 

Boey held him like that for a minute. “I’m going to go get something. Stay here with Dragon for a second, okay?”

“Okay.” Franz felt like he was being a bit pathetic, but he did as Boey told him and Boey got up and disappeared into the other room. Dragon got up on the sofa and lay across Franz’s lap, and Franz rubbed him slowly. 

It was dumb, he was a grown man, he shouldn’t be sitting here pouting because he missed his parents. But he did. It had been so many months since he’d seen or talked to them or his siblings, and Franz hadn’t realized how hard that was until he’d read that letter and suddenly remembered how long it had been.

Boey hadn’t seen his family in longer, Franz realized suddenly. He’d come to live with Franz at the castle when they’d both been pretty young and though his parents had lived in the capital, he’d spent more time with Franz’s family than his own growing up. It was silly for Franz to be getting all sulky about a few months away when Boey had barely seen his parents in years. It should be him being comforting, not the other way around.

Boey came back in the room and Franz looked up to see him all but hidden behind the pile of blankets and pillows he was carrying. “Here.” He said, dumping them over the back of the sofa on top of Franz and Dragon. Boey didn’t sit back down right away, instead going around the couch and moving the other furniture, the table and the chairs, out of the way to make a space on the floor. 

“What are you doing?”

“Remember when we were little and I used to get sad because I missed my parents?” Boey asked.

Franz nodded. It had happened when they were younger, but not a lot lately. “I was just thinking about that. You must miss them even more than I miss mine.”

“About the same, probably.” Boey said, moving around the room and stealing cushions off of all the furniture, tossing them over to the pile on the sofa. When he was done he came over, pulled Franz and Dragon onto the floor and went about arranging them into a little nest. “You used to always make a bed of pillows and blankets on the floor like this and hug me until I felt better.”

“We were little kids when that happened.” Franz muttered, flushing. 

“Want to bet that it still works?” Boey finished arranging and pulled Franz into a hug wrapped in a blanket. It was too warm for this, and it was definitely too warm for Dragon to curl up partially beside and partially on top of them, but Franz wriggled a little to get closer to Boey anyway. “There. That’s better.”

“Yeah.” Franz admitted that he did feel a little better already. “Thanks, Boey. I feel dumb.”

“It’s okay to miss your family.” 

“But you…”

“I miss my parents too.” Boey admitted, hugging Franz tighter. “My brother too. We can miss them together.” 

“Yeah.” Franz felt himself crying a little bit, and he just let Boey hold him, and held Boey back. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too, Franz. If you’d gone without me I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

“Me either.” Franz shook his head. He couldn’t imagine what this would have been like by himself. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Dragon whinged a bit at them, and Franz chuckled. “We love you too, Dragon.” That seemed to pacify the dog, and he put his head back down.

Boey kissed Franz on the cheek. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to marry Gabrielle.” Franz muttered, feeling a little ashamed at even admitting that. 

“I know.”

“I want to marry you.”

“I know.”

“We could go back to the south and get married and adopt a whole bunch of kids and live near our families.” 

“No, we couldn’t.” Boey said sadly.

“No.” Franz agreed, sighing. “We couldn’t. Being an adult sucks.”

“Yeah.” 

“You’ll stay with me, right, Boey?” Franz asked, looking down at Dragon. 

“Of course I will.”

“I know it’s not fair.” He said, feeling bad again. “I know you’re always doing things you don’t want to because of me. I know I’m selfish. I know I make your life harder. I know…”

“Shh.” Boey said, patting Franz’s cheek. “That’s not true. None of that is true. I stay with you because I want to, Franz.” 

“Really?” Franz knew Boey loved him, he did. But he also knew that they were only companions because their parents had mutually decided on it years ago. He still remembered the day he’d met Boey. He’d run away as soon as he’d caught sight of Franz and Franz had had to go find him and coax him out of the bushes he’d hidden in. 

“Yes, really. And I always will, promise.” 

“Okay. I promise I’ll always stay with you too, Boey. No matter what happens. I love you.”

“I know you do.” Boey kissed him again. “I love you too.” 

“The servants are going to think this is weird when they find it all in the morning.”

“Who cares?” Boey asked, snuggling a bit more. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Franz smiled. “Thanks, Boey.”

Boey smiled back at him, and Franz felt far less lonely than he had. “Anytime, my prince.”


	12. Nothing Is Ever Truly What We Expect It to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last.

_Don’t be nervous._ A voice in Franz’s head that sounded suspiciously like Boey said. Probably it sounded like Boey because Boey had said that exact thing to him three or twenty times while getting ready to come out here. 

Franz wasn’t nervous. Maybe just a little, but it was understandable. Finally, after all this time, he was going to be meeting Princess Gabrielle. A little bit of nerves were natural.

It was warm out, the way it was supposed to be in the summer. It was nice, Franz thought. Gabrielle was coming home to much more pleasant weather than that which Franz had come to. In a way, he was glad he’d come at the worst time of the year, so he could just immediately experience the worst the north had to offer and get it over with.

He was waiting just inside the gates of the palace with the king and queen and some of the other nobles, all of whom were trying not to look nervous as well. They couldn’t very well ride out of the city to meet Gabrielle and Gavin, lest they give the public the impression that there had ever been anything to worry about. It had been nearly an hour now, but a messenger had just run in and told them that Gabrielle and her escort were just approaching the castle now, so it shouldn’t be much longer.

“No need to be nervous, sire.” Franz looked up at the owner of the hand that had landed on his shoulder. Lord Dominic was smiling reassuringly at him. “The princess is a lovely young lady. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m more excited than nervous, Lord Dominic,” Franz said with a return smile that was just as fake. “I’ve been waiting in so much suspense since I got here that I can hardly contain myself at this point.” 

“No doubt,” Dominic said with a nod. Boey didn’t like him, but Dominic was no worse than any other obsequious courtier in any other court. His lands were minimal, his family came from hardly anything and he would do whatever he needed to do in order to maintain the status he’d managed to carve out for himself. Men like him were easy enough to read, and Dominic didn’t worry Franz as a result. “Ah, here she comes.” 

Sure enough, a horn sounded and a moment later, the gates to the palace were thrown open and a column of knights crossed the bridge over the moat around the castle grounds, led by Richard Stormhowe. Franz watched the knights fan out, revealing a group of people who were clearly not knights in their midst. A blonde knight sat at their front, strong and tired-looking, and was dismounting her horse. Beside her was a young man of similar colouring but slightly sharper in features, and prettier, if Franz was honest with himself. A blocky-looking redhead and a seemingly bored woman were with them, among several others, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that the two Franz had noticed first were Gabrielle and her brother—they both took after their parents in different ways. 

Gabrielle come forward with Gavin in tow, and both of them knelt in front of Gerard and Georgina. Gavin managed to stand halfway gracefully before jumping into a hug with first his father and then his mother. Franz could hardly fault the boy. “I missed you,” Franz heard him say.

“We were so worried about you, son.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Gavin said, nearly inaudible. 

Gabrielle stood as well and hugged the king and queen. “Thank you,” Franz heard Gerard say to her as they embraced. 

“I told you I’d bring him back.” 

“We never doubted it for a moment, love,” Georgina assured her daughter. 

Franz felt in that moment like all the rest of them were intruding on something private. Really, this should have just been the king and queen. The rest of them could have said hello to Gabrielle inside the castle. 

“Gavin, dear. Are you alright? Tell me you’re not hurt.” 

“I’m okay, mom. I’m not hurt.” 

“The dragon…”

“Just wanted me to sit on a pile of coins and look pretty, mom. It hardly noticed me unless I tried to leave, it was fine. I promise, I’m okay.” 

“I can’t help but notice that there’s no outlaw in your presence,” Gerard remarked, briefly glancing up at Gabrielle and Gavin’s travelling companions. As he and Georgina talked to Gavin, Gabrielle was working her way through all the other nobles in the group, greeting them individually and thanking them for their concern. She was doing a good job of sounding like she cared about their concern, Franz noticed. 

“There was never an outlaw, dad.” Gavin suddenly sounded petulant, and just hearing it made him look younger to Franz, though in reality they were close to the same age. “Did you get my letter? I was travelling.”

While half the kingdom had been looking for him. It was an awfully spoiled thing to do, Franz thought. Gabrielle looked in his direction and he tried to smile, but she just moved on to the next person in the crowd.

“We got your letter. That was a foolish thing you did, Gavin,” Gerard said, and he looked up at the crowd again as if looking for something. “I was your age once, I understand thinking you’re in love…”

“Gerard.”

“It’s okay, mom.” Gavin shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“Where is the girl?”

Gavin was silent for a moment, and it was a sullen silence. Gabrielle was talking to Lord Dominic now. “It doesn’t matter.” Gavin finally muttered, a little red around the ears.

That got the boy two pitying looks. “Happens to the best of us, son,” Gerard said, smiling at his wife. “We’re not mad at you, not for that, anyway. But you could have been hurt, you could have…”

“I wasn’t going to get hurt,” Gavin interrupted. “My…I had a friend protecting me.”

“Oh?” Georgina openly scanned the group they’d come in with. “A friend, was it?” 

“Owen. He’s the one who rescued me from the dragon.” Gavin reached out and beckoned someone forward, and the sturdy redheaded man hesitantly came forward to join them. 

Gabrielle had worked her way through most of the crowd, and now seemed a little surprised to find herself in front of Franz. She stood there for a second, clearly uncertain what to say. She probably didn’t know who he was, Franz realized suddenly. “Welcome back, Your Highness. I’m…”

“You’d be Prince Franz,” Gabrielle said, nodding almost to herself. 

“Ah.” Franz smiled. So she did know. Hopefully there was still time to make a decent first impression. “Yes, I would be. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“And you as well.” Gabrielle hesitated again, and offered out a hand for Franz to shake. Franz did, still smiling but trying not to look like an idiot. He wasn’t sure what else to do. “How long have you been here in the north?” 

“Five, six months?” Franz wasn’t entirely sure. “Since the winter, anyway. I didn’t realize you weren’t here, so…”

Gabrielle smiled a little. “I apologize for that.”

“No, I understand.” Franz nodded. He thought he should say something else, so he added, “I, uh. I have siblings too. I’m not much of a fighter, but I’d have turned the world upside down to find them.” At least they had some common ground, sort of. 

“Well, I guess I can count that as a point in your favour, then.” Gabrielle was standing very still, in a way that reminded Franz that she was wearing armour. It suited her. “I’m sorry,” she said after a pause. Her parents seemed to be interrogating Gavin’s friend behind her. “I know you’ve been waiting a long time to talk to me, but…”

“Now’s not the best time.” Franz nodded his agreement, and was relieved when Gabrielle nodded back. “You’re right. I’m sorry too—this probably wasn’t the best way for us to meet, but I…well, I guess I was a little impatient.” Princes shouldn’t sound sheepish, but he did, just then. Gabrielle was going to think he was an idiot.

“It’s fine.” Gabrielle bowed just a little, just for politeness. “I look forward to getting to know you better, Prince Franz.”

“Yes, so do I, Princess Gabrielle.” At least, Franz thought, he wasn’t the only one who was a little awkward. 

“I love him.” Gavin’s voice suddenly cut over everything else, drawing both of their attention. He looked a little stunned, but kept talking. “Owen and I love each other. I wanted to spend time with him before I came home, that’s all. That’s why we went north. It’s why I didn’t let him take me home. I love him.” 

A silence fell over all of them, and Gabrielle just shook her head, putting a hand over her eyes for a second. “For fuck’s sake, you dumbass,” she whispered. Owen the redhead came over and gave Gavin a hug, whispering something in his ear. The two of them stood like that for a long moment before disengaging, smiling a little and holding hands, and Franz saw that Gavin hadn’t been lying. It was clear that the two of them were in love. 

And Owen was pretty clearly a commoner, so it wasn’t hard to figure out how this was going to go. Gabrielle had obviously known about this, Franz gathered. Strange that she hadn’t done anything about it before now. 

“Sir.” Owen’s voice was strong, and carried none of the worry someone of his station should have had when addressing a king. “You asked me what I want, and it’s a crime to lie to the king, so…I want to be allowed to be with Gavin. That’s all.” 

After a long look shared with Georgina, Gerard turned to Gabrielle. “You knew about this?”

“Yes.” Gabrielle nodded, letting her hand fall to her side. “For the record, I tried to separate them, and it didn’t work. Just made them both miserable. I don’t suggest it.” 

“Well, it seems we have rather a lot to catch up on,” Georgina said, watching Owen as if thinking how best to cut him up for pies. “And rather a lot to discuss. Let’s meet the rest of your companions, Gavin, and then we’ve a banquet prepared to celebrate your return.” 

“Thanks, mom.” Gavin let go of Owen’s hand and summoned the rest of their friends over before hugging the queen again. Franz was pretty sure he’d misunderstood her silence for consent. “I missed you both.”

“We missed you too, son. We’re glad you’re okay.” The way Georgina spoke to Gavin reminded Franz of his own mother so much that he was again struck with the feeling that he shouldn’t be here. 

“You have Owen to thank for that,” Gavin insisted. Maybe he did understand after all. Gabrielle just shook her head ever so slightly. 

“Thank you, Owen,” The queen said, and it sounded genuine. “You have no idea, the fear we had for him.” 

Owen just nodded, looking a little unhappy. “I’m glad he’s safe.”

“So are we. The rest we can talk about later.” Gerard’s tone was final and the rest of Gavin’s friends came over, and that was the end of that part of the conversation—or at least it was for now. Franz had a feeling it would continue in the palace, out of hearing of the rest of the court. 

Dominic sidled up to him again as Gavin made more introductions. “See, told you there was nothing to be nervous about.” 

Franz smiled a little ruefully. Maybe not, if only because Gabrielle had more important things on her mind than him. Which he supposed was to be expected. “And so there wasn’t, Lord Dominic.” That meeting had been destined to go badly from the start, and Franz shouldn’t have bothered being worried about something that he couldn’t have done anything about. 

After a few more minutes the king bade them all to come inside the castle, and though Gabrielle caught his eye on the way in, that was the last time they interacted all day.


	13. Problems with Clear Solutions Are Often the Hardest to Solve

“She hates me.” 

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t hate you,” Boey said from somewhere, because it was pretty much Boey’s job to tell Franz he was wrong about everything. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure she does,” Franz disagreed. “And you’ve never talked to her and I have, so we’ll go with my opinion.” 

“It’s hard to take your opinion seriously when you’re lying on the floor complaining about nothing.” 

“I take umbrage at that.” Franz may have been lying on the floor, but he wasn’t complaining about nothing. This was important. “And if you’re going to argue with me, you could at least have the decency to come down here and lay on the floor like a man while you do it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Boey sighed. 

“Maybe, but it doesn’t change the fact that my wife-to-be hates me.”

Another sigh, then Franz heard Boey move and a moment later Boey was sitting beside him on the floor. Not lying, but close enough. “Why do you think that?” 

“Well, she never talks to me, for one,” Franz said, raising a finger. 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

“It’s not, but it’s sort of true.” Which wasn’t really the same thing, but Franz didn’t care. “She talks to me at dinner. She’s very polite. You know, polite in that way that people are when they’re only talking to you because they have to? She’s like that.”

“Well, she’s a princess; of course she’s like that.” Boey was writing, or he had a little writing board with him, but he’d paused so he could talk to Franz. Franz shouldn’t have made him to that. “Do you talk to her?”

“I try, when I see her. But I don’t know what to say to her. And when we try to talk at dinner her parents and her brother are always there, so I feel like I have to be really formal; but then when we’re not at dinner I don’t know how to talk to her.” Franz had never had trouble talking to anyone before, but then, he’d never been betrothed to someone before either. 

“You don’t spend any time with her,” Boey reminded him. “I know you’ve tried, but you don’t seem to be trying that hard.”

“She’s always at the fortress,” Franz grumbled. What was he supposed to do, go and sit there and watch Gabrielle fight people? “I think she’s avoiding me.”

“Has it occurred to you that she doesn’t know what to say to you either?” Boey asked, and he sounded so patient. Franz didn’t really want Boey to be patient at the moment—he wanted Boey to commiserate with him so they could be unhappy together. 

“I guess,” Franz admitted. Gabrielle had seemed just as awkward as he’d felt when they’d met that first time. Maybe she was at a loss about this whole situation as well. “Maybe that’s all it is.” Now Franz sighed. “I’ll just keep trying to talk to her until it works, I guess.” 

“Find something you have in common. You befriended all her friends, didn’t you? They must have an idea.”

“Yeah.” Franz could ask Kieran or Hector or one of the others, assuming he could find a way to do it that didn’t make him look pathetic.

“Also, you befriended all her friends. There’s no reason why you can’t befriend her too.” 

“I don’t have to get married to all her friends,” Franz grumbled. “It’s different.”

“You don’t want to be friends with your wife?” 

“Well…” Franz didn’t have a rebuttal to that. “Okay, okay. I’ll try. I just don’t know what to do.”

“You could start by becoming friends with her brother,” Boey suggested. 

Franz made a bit of a face. “He’s obnoxious—and I _know_ he doesn’t like me.” Franz hadn’t spoken any more to Gabrielle’s brother Gavin than he had to her, really, just a few polite exchanges at supper. Gavin was less polite than his sister, though, and he was annoyed with his parents, which he was taking out on everyone. 

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“No, it has everything to do with that commoner he wants to sleep with.” Franz shook his head. By all accounts, Gavin wasn’t a stupid person, but he didn’t seem to see the reason why he couldn’t just bring some random sellsword he’d met into his bed. Love made people do stupid things, and it was obvious to Franz that Gavin was in love with this Owen, but surely he had the sense to know it was never going to happen. 

Boey didn’t have an answer for that, so into his silence Franz said, “He’s a brat—and he looks at me like he wants to punch me in the face.”

“He probably does,” Boey muttered, looking away for a minute. “Let’s remember that he’s never met you before and now you’re here, living in his house, spending time with his friends and planning to marry his sister.” 

“He’s a prince—he had to know this was coming someday. There’s probably a noble girl somewhere in the kingdom waiting to do the same to him.” 

“Probably, but in the meantime, try to consider his perspective for a few minutes.”

Franz didn’t want to consider Gavin’s perspective. “He’s annoying and immature.” 

“And you’re not?” Boey’s tone sharpened a little, and Franz looked up. He didn’t look patient anymore. “You’re lying on the floor pouting because people you don’t know don’t like you as much as you think they should, while having done nothing to make that happen.” 

Franz sat up, watching Boey. “I think I’m entitled to be a little upset, Boey. None of this is easy for me, you know.”

Boey raised an eyebrow. “You’re not the only one.” Was all he said, and he stood, taking his writing board and leaving Franz there on the floor while he went and sat on the sofa, hunched over the paper. 

Franz watched him, first annoyed—Boey had no place being angry with him over the way he felt—but then guilty when he realized what he’d done. He had no place assuming that he was the only one having a hard time. He stood, went and sat on the other side of the sofa, not quite looking at Boey. “I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Boey said, not looking up. “I could have been more tactful.”

“No, it’s fine.” Franz sighed, looking at the carpet between his knees. “I’m kind of a brat too, aren’t I?” 

“Not usually,” Boey told him. He was still looking down at his paper. “But you do have your moments.” 

“And this was one of them?” Franz smiled. He looked over at Boey. “I guess Gavin and I have that in common, don’t we?”

“There you go. Something to start with.” 

“Yeah.” Boey still hadn’t looked up. “What are you writing?” 

“A poem.”

“Can I read it when you’re done?”

“Sure.” Boey looked at it for a moment longer before handing the writing board to Franz. “Here, I don’t have an ending yet.” 

Franz smiled, and looked down at the paper. Boey had written a fair bit of poetry, but not since they’d been here. At least not that Franz knew. The poem was about a bird that was afraid of falling out of the sky. “It’s pretty.”

“Thanks.” Boey took it back, oddly coloured. He looked like he was about to say something else, and then didn’t. “Why don’t you court her?” 

“Gabrielle?” Franz made a face. “Why would I do that—we’re already past the stage where courtship is necessary.”

“I think the whole point of courtship is to give people an opportunity to get to know each other,” Boey said, stretching a little, but then hunching over the writing board again. “You need to get to know her. Why not start by giving her flowers?” 

“I…” Franz had always thought that the old courtship rituals were silly and outdated, something that nobody really did. On the other hand, they did make for good stories, if nothing else. “Yeah, maybe I’ll try that.” 

“In the meantime, I’ll try to arrange for you to accidentally run into Gavin somewhere. I hear he’s good at archery—maybe you should go shooting or something.”

“Because if there’s one thing I want, it’s to get trounced in something by that brat,” Franz muttered, shaking his head. But he smiled at Boey. “Yeah, that’s a good idea, though. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Yeah, me either.” Boey smiled, and went back to his writing. Franz sat back a little, intending to plan out how he was going to do this. But he ended up just sitting there watching Boey all afternoon.


	14. It's Always Nice to Get Along with Your Friends' Parents

The manor houses where important nobility lived when they were in the city were just down the hill from the palace, and they all looked the same to Franz. Same arched rooves, same plaster fronts, same walls and hedges. Fortunately, most of them had flags or standards near the gate, so Franz just kept an eye out for the broken windmill that denoted the Quate family. 

He hadn’t brought any servants or guards with him, and Boey and Frederick were both at the castle too. Ostensibly, Franz was having lunch with his good friend Hector. 

He wondered if Hector was even going to be there.

Finding the house without too much trouble, Franz turned towards and it and was utterly unsurprised when the gates opened before he got near them. He went inside, and was met by a servant. “Your Highness.” The man was young, not much older than Franz. “Lord Hector has been waiting for you.”

“No doubt.” Franz smiled, let the man lead him into the house. 

Where he was immediately met by Hector, which Franz admitted to himself was surprising. “There you are.” Hector smiled at him, patting Franz on the arm and dismissing the servant with a nod. “I was worried you’d have trouble finding the house.”

“The flag beside the gate helped.” 

“That’s what it’s there for. Come on.” Hector led him through the large foyer, down a hall and up some stairs, to what Franz took to be a sitting room.

Where the Lady Helena was sitting, putting sugar into a teacup. She smiled up at them. “Hello, your Highness. I do hope you don’t mind me intruding on your lunch.” She did not, in fact, have a ridiculous accent.

“Of course not, Lady Quate.” Franz smiled graciously. 

“Oh, can it, you two.” Hector closed the door behind him with a click and stretched, before making his way across the room. “You both know why you’re really here. Why pretend?”

“Hector,” Franz said, grinning. “Pretending is half the fun.”

“Sure,” Hector snorted, pulling on a candelabra on the wall and opening a secret door, which he stepped through. “I’ll let you two have some time alone.”

“Thank you, son,” Helena said as Hector saluted them, pushing the secret door shut behind him. Even knowing it was there, Franz wouldn’t have been able to see it. 

“Do all manor houses in the city have secret passages in them?” Franz wondered, “or did you renovate when you moved in?”

“A secret passage or two is always a good idea in a house, don’t you agree?” Helena asked him, gesturing at the empty chair opposite her. “When Gabrielle takes the throne, you should make Hector your spymaster.” 

Well, that was very blunt. “Is he good at it?” Franz asked, sitting down. Franz already had a spymaster. 

“Well, he learned all about it from me.”

“Hm.” Franz took the teapot to pour himself some tea. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you good at it?”

Helena’s laugh was mostly in her throat. “I like to think so. If we measure suitability to the position by one’s ability to uncover and keep secrets.” 

“Well, that would seem to be the primary criterion,” Franz agreed, sipping his tea without any sugar. “Though it didn’t take me long to realize it was you, and I’d think that would be a secret worth guarding a little more closely.”

“Did you consider the possibility that the reason your Boey knew it was me was because I let him know?” Lady Quate asked, watching Franz over the top of her teacup. 

Franz didn’t make a face at that, no matter how much he wanted to. “I have a feeling he’ll tell me that’s not true,” He said carefully. 

“He may.” Helena shrugged one shoulder. “Ask him, see what he says. Incidentally, I was able to learn about your relationship with him without planting a servant in your rooms.”

Now Franz went a little cold. The best thing to do was just not address that. “Do you know who Frederick is answering to?” he asked instead. 

Now Helena made a face. “No. Alas, as my dear friend Kenneth would say. A point of minor professional embarrassment. I’m not planning to hold Boey over your head, Highness. I don’t care who sleeps in your bed—so long as you’re not out making babies who will compete with Gabrielle’s.”

“You have my word I’m not,” Franz promised.

“Good. I do not advise keeping that information from the princess, however.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He would tell Gabrielle about Boey, if they ever got on proper speaking terms, anyway. “I can’t imagine you went to all this trouble to talk to me about my companion, Lady Helena.” 

“I went to all this trouble because someday, God willing not for a long time, you are going to be the king of this country.”

“Am I?” Franz asked. There were little cookies on the table so he took one. “You wouldn’t know it from the way I’m spoken to.”

“Unless, of course,” Helena continued, not addressing Franz’s comment, “Gabrielle is assassinated before the wedding.”

A quiet fell over the room. The cookies had too much sugar in them. “That you’re telling me about this rather than Gabrielle or the king suggests that you don’t have any proof,” Franz said, after a long minute. 

“Not proof sufficient to indict the head of a noble family,” Helena admitted, pouring herself some more tea.

“Nor proof sufficient to convince me, it seems.”

“Have Boey keep an ear on the news. I suspect he’ll soon hear rumours of an engagement.”

Engagements were often a sign that something was happening behind the scenes, Franz had to admit. “Between whom?”

“Turner Feestings and Gloria Sanct.” 

The quiet came back. Franz set his cup down. “I admit, Lord Orwell didn’t seem like the type to me.” 

“I suspect he isn’t. It seems likely that someone talked him into it.” Helena had this quiet, introspective way of talking that made her sound trustworthy. 

Franz considered that. “And that’s the part that you have no proof for.”

“Yes. A retainer of Lord Feestings’s recently travelled all the way north to Merket and back. I can’t confirm that they made contact with one of the two assassins’ guilds in that city, but one of my informants has anecdotal evidence suggesting that’s what happened. I’ll soon have copies of House Feestings’s financial affairs that will show the funds being allotted. What I don’t have any leads on is who’s been egging Orwell on.”

Franz nodded. He would need to actually see that evidence for himself, or at least have Boey see it. It now made sense to him why Helena had asked him here, though. “I am not aware of any such plan from my mother’s court,” he told her.

“Good, nor am I, though I admit my resources are less expansive in Kyaine. I assumed it was safe to tell you as you have a vested interest in keeping Gabrielle alive—a personal one, not just a vague concept of loyalty to the crown.” Helena was watching Franz carefully. 

Franz watched her back, just as carefully. “I suppose I do.” He would have no status here in the north if Gabrielle died, after all, and would likely end up having to go back home. If they didn’t decide he was responsible. “What about Gavin?” he asked. “For Gloria to be queen, he’d need to die as well.”

“This is where sorting between evidence and coincidence gets a bit tricky.” Helena nodded. “Are dragon attacks really as random as they seem?” She shrugged again. “It’s also possible I’m just reading into it to support a theory.”

“If you aren’t, that fortress full of mages down the road proves a bit suspect, doesn’t it?” Franz wasn’t really asking. He regretted not bringing any wizards with him. Maybe he would send for one. Or five. 

“It does, doesn’t it? But I don’t expect you and I will solve the issue of who Orwell’s partner is over tea,” Helena said, straightening in her chair. “I wonder if you could find occasion to get to know Lord Dominic a little better.”

Franz cocked a brow. “You suspect him?” He would be on Franz’s list too, just because he was a bit strange—his inclusion as one of the king’s advisors didn’t make any sense. His lands weren’t important, he had no family to speak of, and his finances weren’t that impressive.

“Only because I don’t know him that well. He keeps to himself, doesn’t socialize much, unfortunately doesn’t have children for mine to be friends with. He’s never done anything in particular to arouse suspicion, but I’d like to know more about him before dismissing the idea out of hand.” 

“You’re grasping at straws, a little.”

“I’m trying to save the princess’s life,” Helena countered. “It’s easy enough to foil some assassins this one time. But doing so will drive our friends deeper into the weeds than they already are. I’d like to smoke them out before that happens if at all possible. Believe me, the only reason I’m asking for help is because I haven’t had any success on my own.”

Franz considered that, and nodded. “I’ll find out what Lord Dominic likes. I’m sure I can develop a new interest or two.” He glanced over his shoulder, to where that secret door was. “Does Hector know about this?”

Hector wasn’t in the room, so Franz took the answer to be no.

Helena shook her head. “None of the children do—I’m quite certain that Turner and Gloria don’t, either. They may not even know that they’re soon to be betrothed.” 

Well, at least Franz wasn’t being considered one of the ‘children’ for once. “And we’re keeping it that way because…”

“I’m sure they’ve told you about their promise? Not to keep secrets from one another, not to hold grudges?” Franz nodded. “It’s lovely. I hope they’re able to stick to it. But secrets run the world, especially in our circles. It’s naïve to think they don’t.”

That was depressing, but most things that were true were. “Agreed,” Franz said, with a sigh. The tea was gone. “There’s a good chance that, if they were to learn what their grandfather was planning, Olivia and Turner would oppose him.”

“I agree. But it’s a chance, not a certainty. I’m not willing to gamble on uncertainties yet.”

Franz nodded. “Gabrielle is another uncertainty, I suppose?”

“She’s going to be a very good ruler, I think,” Helena said. “But she hasn’t historically been the most subtle of people.”

“Fortunately, she has us to be subtle for her, then,” Franz interpreted.

“Your act is very convincing, by the way,” Helena told him, nodding. “I think you have most of the others fooled into believing that you’re not that smart.”

“Won’t they have egg on their face when it comes time to tell them the truth?” Franz smiled. “I plan to be the king of this country, Lady Quate. That entails both being liked and being competent, as far as I’m concerned.”

Helena just kept nodding as he spoke. “I’m pleased to hear it. I do hope I’m not wrong to place trust in you, my prince.”

“I feel the same way.” Franz didn’t get the feeling Helena was lying to him. But anyone could be a liar, he knew that. “I hope that we can work together profitably.”

“As do I. For the safety of the kingdom.” Helena stood, setting her teacup down. “Now, I’ll let you have lunch. I’m sure my poor son is bored to death waiting for us to finish prattling on. He likes you quite a bit, you know.”

“I like him as well.” Franz smiled. “I look forward to spending more time with him in the future.”

“As do I.” 

Helena disappeared through the same hidden door, leaving Franz by himself for a good several minutes before Hector returned to tease him about his boring pre-lunch meeting. He used that time to consider, very carefully, the danger that he’d just stepped into.


	15. Honesty Is Good for Making Friends and Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: "Nothing in the World Is Harder to Avoid than Bullshit Related to Masculinity."

“I’m a little surprised that you wanted to come out this far.”

Gavin looked up at Franz from where he was crouched on the ground, stringing his bow. “The castle grounds are no good for practicing,” he said, looking back down at the bow. He finished with the string and plucked at it, testing its tautness. 

“Why not?” Franz hadn’t found them that bad in the times he’d had the misfortune of shooting there. 

Archery was not his strong suit. 

“They’re too fake.” Now Gavin was inspecting his quiver, pulling out the arrows and testing the weight. A couple of them he frowned at and tossed aside, but most went back into the quiver and he hefted it with a nod, belting it to his hip. “The ground is perfect and flat, there’s hardly any wind, they can only put the targets so far away. Real archery isn’t like that at all.”

“I hadn’t though of it that way,” Franz admitted, He kept his own quiver on the ground where it wouldn’t interfere with his balance, stringing his bow as well. 

“That’s because you think of it as a sport.” Now Gavin smiled at him, stretching out his arm. “I shot a wolf at fifty paces while falling from a tree once. And it’s a good thing, since it would have mauled me if I’d missed.”

“Impressive.” If ghastly. Franz just smiled back, remembering that he needed Gavin to like him, and not to show on his face that he didn’t think Gavin’s bragging was as intimidating as he wanted it to sound. 

Gavin shrugged. He looked out at the targets that he had set up thirty paces out and turned, walking away from them. Franz followed him. “I’m surprised you asked me to go shooting with you, Prince Franz,” he said, as he walked. His steps were very deliberate, clearly counted. “Kieran tells me you’re not a very good archer.”

Kieran needed to learn when to shut up, Franz thought a little glumly. But he wasn’t wrong. Franz was counting it as a victory that Gavin had agreed to come out with him. Taking Boey’s advice, he’d suggested archery as something they could do together so they could at least put up a front of being friendly. Gavin was a brat but he wasn’t stupid; he knew the value of appearances as well as Franz did. 

Gavin had insisted, on receiving the invitation, that he wanted to spend time alone with his new brother, and so nobody, not even servants, had come with them. They were out here about a mile from Three Hills by themselves. 

“Please, just call me Franz. Family don’t need titles.”

Gavin looked at Franz for a moment, but he nodded. “You’re right.” He got to fifty paces and though Franz could see him looking out and clearly considering walking farther, he stopped there and turned back around. Franz stopped too, putting his quiver down and looking down the distance to the targets. 

This was not going to go well.

Gavin closed his eyes for a minute, standing very still. Franz watched him, interested despite himself in whatever ritual this was. After a moment Gavin opened his eyes and nocked an arrow. 

And he put it right in the centre of his target. 

“You’re very good,” Franz observed.

“I know.” Gavin plucked another arrow from his quiver. “And I think you knew that too. It was very nice of you to lure me away with something I could beat you in. I’m not sure I’d have been that generous.” 

Franz smiled. That was because Gavin was a bit of a brat and Franz was an adult. He’d hoped that the lack of servants with them had meant that Gavin would feel free to be blunt. “I didn’t think I’d get you out if I suggested falconry.”

“I’m good at that too.”

“I’m better.”

Gavin glanced at him a little wryly, loosing his arrow without looking. It hit just next to his first one. 

Franz figured he should probably start shooting too, so he readied his own arrow, checking the wind and trying to take its speed into consideration. He hit the foot of the target. 

“I’m sure everyone you’ve met has asked you have you’ve been finding the north,” Gavin said, looking at Franz’s arrow with clear amusement as Franz nocked another. “And I’m sure just as many people haven’t actually given a damn about the answer, so how about I spare you that and ask how you ended up with a castle servant as your page?”

Franz’s second arrow went a little higher. This was turning out to be more interesting than he’d thought. “Someone thought it would be amusing to make him the point of contact between me and the castle. I thought it would be amusing to give him the status that went with that.” Frederick had been a little put out that he couldn’t come with them today. 

“Hm.” Gavin’s third arrow went a little off-centre, and he frowned at it, immediately shooting off a forth that planted in between the first two. “He seems happy enough with it, anyway.”

“He likes my dog.”

“Everyone seems to like your dog.”

Franz grinned a little at that. He took it as a point of pride that everyone liked Dragon. “He’s a good boy.”

“He slobbered all over my shirt.”

Rather than getting upset, Franz laughed. “He must like you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

Franz frowned. “Do what?”

“Pretend we’re friends.” Another arrow hit the centre. Gavin didn’t look at him. “I know how politics work. You’re marrying my sister and you’re going to be the king. You invited me out here so we could show everyone how close we’ll be as brothers, and I can play that game just fine. But there’s nobody out here on purpose, so it’s okay. We can talk about your dog for an hour and go home and tell everyone that we’re the best of friends.” He gave Franz a small smile. “Sorry I haven’t been the most polite to you since I’ve been back. I’ve had a lot on my mind, but I’ll be better at it from now on, promise.”

Franz watched Gavin carefully for a long moment, before nocking another arrow and missing the target entirely. “It would have looked strange if we’d been best friends right away,” he said, looking away from Gavin now. “I think it’s expected that brothers by law aren’t going to get along at first.”

“Some sort of masculinity bullshit,” Gavin muttered, looking down at his quiver. 

“Something like that.” Franz chuckled. “We do have to maintain appearances for the sake of your family’s unity, but Gavin, I’d like it if we could be friends for real. Both of our lives are going to be really difficult if the best we can do is pretend to get along. Your friends all speak very highly of you, and it’s not just because you’re a prince and they have to. They like you a lot and I think there must be a reason for that. Don’t you think we could stop hiding behind politeness and at least try to get to know each other for real?” Part of what Franz needed to do here was assess how likely it was that Gavin would be useful in figuring out this plot Helena had uncovered. Gavin wasn’t going to be able to help him if he was as impulsive and silly as he seemed. At the very least, Franz felt comfortable ruling him out as a suspect, though. 

Lowering his bow, Gavin looked at Franz now, thoughtful. The wind picked up a bit, sweeping across the grass in waves. “I guess it would be kind of obvious if we were only pretending,” Gavin said after a minute. “If that’s going to work you’re going to need to stop talking to me like I’m a kid. I’m not that much younger than you.”

That was a fair enough point. “And you’d have to stop treating me like I’m the enemy in your arguments with people who aren’t me.” It wasn’t Franz’s fault that Gavin wasn’t being allowed to sleep with his lowborn lover. 

Another long silence filled only by the air moving. “Fair enough.” Gavin smiled, a little sheepish. “I guess I was a bit of a jerk. Sorry.”

“Me too.” Franz shrugged, offered his hand. Gavin shook it. 

“As far as plans to woo my sister go, this is a pretty okay one,” Gavin admitted, turning his attention back to his bow.

“I was planning to start formally courting her as well.”

Gavin paused in picking an arrow, and broke out into a grin. “She’ll think that’s really stupid. Do it.”

“You think?” Franz wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. 

“Trust me. She’ll find it endearing, though she’ll pretend not to.” 

“You know her better than I do.” Franz sighed, shooting another arrow and nicking the top of the target this time. 

“You’ve never had a conversation this long with her, have you?”

“No.”

Gavin nocked another arrow, adjusting his stance slightly. “I’ll talk to her.”

“That’s what the courting is for.”

“She’s being dumb. Guess that runs in the family. I’ll talk to her.” Gavin repeated, loosing his arrow. It hit dead centre—in Franz’s target.

“Now you’re just showing off.”

“It’s the little things that help us assert dominance, Franz.” Gavin stretched out an arm, looking at the arrow. “Masculinity bullshit.” 

That one earned a real laugh. “Well, you are the little brother in this equation, so I guess it’s to be expected.”

“And the next one is going between your eyes.”

“Don’t worry, Gavin, I’ll teach you everything I know about being a man.”

“Nevermind, it’s going between your legs.” Gavin shook his head. “Cut this whole engagement off with one arrow.” 

“You’re kind of a brat.”

“You’re kind of an asshole.”

“So?” Franz picked another arrow, tapped Gavin on the shoulder with it. “What do you say? Can we be friends?”

Gavin sighed, a little on the dramatic side. “I guess. If you insist.” Now he looked mischievous. “Gabrielle’s probably going to hate this.”

“Really?”

“She hates all my friends. Even the ones she’s friends with too.”

Franz frowned. “You should have warned me of that first.” Gavin was probably joking. Probably. 

“Too late. You’re stuck with me now. Now nock another arrow so I can tell you what you’re doing wrong, brother mine.” 

Franz did as he was told, and suffered through Gavin’s very thorough instruction for another hour. 

He still didn’t quite know what to do with Gavin in terms of the assassination, but he ended up having a lot more fun than he’d planned on.


	16. Rituals Provide A Useful Framework for Navigating the Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandatory reminder that Franz is kind of a dork.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“Of course you can.” Boey probably didn’t roll his eyes, but—who was Franz kidding, he definitely did. 

“No, I can’t. What if she hates it? What if I took this flower from her favourite part of the garden and now it’s ruined? What if she hates flowers? What if she punches me in the face? I bet she punches really hard.” 

“Probably,” Boey agreed, eating the last of his porridge and looking up at Franz. “She’s not going to punch you. It’s fine.” 

“You don’t know that.” Franz didn’t think that Boey had enough respect for how stressful this all was. 

“I know everything. Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’m not hungry. I’ll probably be sick if I eat.” Franz pushed back from the table, standing and pacing a little. Dragon perked up from under the table, but lay his head back down when Franz didn’t do anything interesting. 

It was one thing thinking about opening courting with Gabrielle, and another altogether to actually do it. There were just so many things that could go wrong. And all of them, in Franz’s mind, ended with him getting punched. 

“I’m going to give your breakfast to Frederick when he gets here. I don’t think he eats enough.”

“Fine, that’s fine.” Franz sighed, trying really hard to compose himself. It didn’t work “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“Because you knew I was right and you don’t have any other way of tricking Gabrielle into talking to you.” 

“Right.” Well, that wasn’t wrong. “I feel like I shouldn’t have to trick her.”

“And yet here you are.” Boey stood as well, came up and wrapped his arms around Franz. “You’ll be fine, Franz. You’re perfectly charming.”

“You would say that.”

“Do you remember the last time I lied to you?”

“Um…” Nothing came to mind. “No.”

“Because I don’t.” Boey kissed him on the neck, then let Franz go, retrieving the flower from the table and putting it in Franz’s hand. “Now go, before she leaves for the fortress.”

“And interrupt her breakfast? Don’t you think I should wait?”

“No, because this way it will be over and you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Right.” Franz took a breath, and took the red flower, stolen from the castle gardens. “Okay. I’m going.”

“You might want to try not acting like you expect to die.” Boey gently guided Franz to the door. “Just a suggestion.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.” Franz nodded, and then suddenly they were at the door, and Boey had opened the door, and all but pushed him out into the hallway. “I feel like this is moving a bit fast.”

“You’ve been putting it off for two weeks.” 

Boey wasn’t wrong about that, entirely. Franz didn’t think of it as putting it off, so much as preparing himself and waiting for the right moment. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

“I’ll be here when you get back. You’re teaching Frederick swordplay today.”

“I remember.” Franz took one more breath, nodded, and turned in the direction of Gabrielle’s apartments. “I’m going now.”

“Goodbye, Franz.”

Franz turned to make a comment about Boey’s tone, but the door was closed in his face, leaving him alone with the guard who tried hard not to chuckle. Franz sighed. “Okay.”

He set off for Gabrielle’s apartments, twirling the flower in his hands before stopping for worry that he might damage it. That would be bad. He’d have to go get another one, and after all the time spent picking this one out, that could take another several weeks. 

The distance from Franz’s apartments to Gabrielle’s wasn’t that far, but it seemed to be taking him hours to get there, enough time to go through every possible way this could collapse all around him at least once more before getting there. But then he was approaching her door, and Franz was wondering how he’d gotten here so fast.

“Okay.” Franz repeated, rehearsing in his head what he wanted to say one last time. He’d practiced it on Boey a bunch of times and it had been fine, but that had been _Boey_ , of course it had been fine. Now he was standing outside Gabrielle’s door like an idiot, and her door guard was looking at Franz like he was crazy. Franz smiled at him. “I’m here to see the princess,” he said.

The guard nodded stoically and knocked once on the door. It was opened by a maid, who blinked in surprise on seeing him. “Prince Franz. Hold on a moment, if you please.” She turned and spoke softly to someone inside the room, and them moved aside.

Gabrielle pulled the door open, already frowning. This was already not going well. “Prince Franz,” she said to him, looking at him as if he had two heads. “To what do I owe the pleasure this morning?”

Everything Franz had wanted to say evacuated his head all at once, and he could only stand there a bit dumbly, trying to come up with something. “I…I wanted to talk to you, for a moment.” Shifting a little, Franz tried not to look uncomfortable. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Come in, then.” She moved aside and Franz came inside, the door closing behind him. She looked as uncomfortable as he felt. With a wave, Gabrielle dismissed her maids and left the two of them alone. Her rooms were nicer than his, and more lived in. Gabrielle was dressed in loose breeches and a light shirt, which Franz supposed would go under her armour. “What do you need?”

“I…I want to give you this.” Franz held up the flower, not quite looking at her. 

“A flower. Why?” She didn’t reach out and take it. If she didn’t take it, she was rejecting his offer of courtship. Her hand did twitch, though, as if she were thinking of raising it to punch someone with.

“I…” Franz cleared his throat, took a breath. “It is my intention to court you, your Highness.”

Gabrielle looked at Franz for a minute, then at the flower, then back at him. And she started laughing. “To court me? We’re already engaged.”

“I’m aware.” She wasn’t supposed to be laughing. This was important. 

“Did Gavin put you up to this?” she asked, looking at the flower again. “I hear you’ve been spending time with him. This is something he’d suggest.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Who, then?”

Boey, but he couldn’t tell Gabrielle that. “Nobody. I want to do it myself.” His heart was racing so much it hurt. 

“You didn’t strike as the old-fashioned type.” Gabrielle had stopped laughing, at least. “Seriously, what’s this about?”

“This is what it’s about!” Franz said, more firmly than he intended. And perhaps louder. Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. Franz lowered his voice. “Sorry. I’m serious, though. I’d…we haven’t had a chance to talk, much. And I want to. I want to get to know you properly, not just at formal dinners in front of your parents. I’d like to know the person I’m to marry, and I’d like you to know me too. But I haven’t had a chance to try, and I’m not sure how to make that chance. So I’m giving you a flower. It worked for people a hundred years ago, I don’t see why it can’t work for me.” 

Blinking at him again, Gabrielle didn’t seem sure what to do, or say. She looked at Franz, and she looked at the flower. She looked away, mouth tightening a little, then seemed to deflate a little. “You’re right,” Gabrielle finally said. “We should get to know each other.” 

Gabrielle took the flower from him, and smiled. Franz grinned. Gabrielle shook her head. “If I remember this ritual properly, you’re going to bring me these every day, aren’t you?”

“For twenty-five days.” Franz nodded. It was ten in the south, but he’d decided to go with the northern custom. 

“I don’t like flowers that much.”

“Too bad. You’re getting twenty-five of them.”

Gabrielle laughed, and it was a lot nicer this time. “Fine. But then so are you. You don’t get to be the only one making an effort.”

That made Franz feel oddly warm. “Well, I’m not going to stop you. The palace gardeners shall be annoyed with us, I expect.”

“They’ll live. And I’m not stopping you from getting flowers from someplace more interesting than the palace.”

Franz had, in fact, considered that. “I’ll see what I can do for tomorrow.” He glanced at her table, saw it set up for breakfast. “I should go. I didn’t mean to disturb you for long. I’m just here to declare my intentions.”

“Your intentions to woo me.” Gabrielle snorted, shook her head. “I’ve heard them clearly, Prince Franz.”

“Please, just my name.”

“Likewise.” Gabrielle looked at the table now too. “Would you like to join me for breakfast? You’ve probably already eaten, though.”

“I haven’t,” Franz admitted, looking away. “I was a bit too nervous to eat.”

“Nervous about handing me a flower?”

“I was worried I’d get punched.”

“Still an option.” Gabrielle twirled the flower in her hand. “Eat breakfast with me. Explain to me why all my friends like you so much.”

“That, my princess, is because I’m very charming.” Franz smiled his most charming smile. 

Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. “I’d all but ruled that out, but I’m willing to be convinced.”

“I shall do my utmost to convince you, then.”

“Do you always talk like that?”

“Like what? A cultured person?”

“Punching you still isn’t off the table, as a reminder.”

“Duly noted.” 

They sat themselves at the table for breakfast, and Gabrielle set the flower on the table beside her dishes. It was a much better start than Franz had hoped for.


	17. Three Doesn’t Have to Be a Crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole reason I wanted to write this story was so that I could have Franz and Gabrielle talking to each other. Lo and behold, here it is.

Franz thought that people might find going to church to be less of a chore if it wasn’t always so early in the morning. He always went, but he did wish that it could be at some time that wasn’t sunrise. 

Though, Franz supposed, that would take otherwise useful time out of the day. Maybe the Catechism was on to something with their timing. 

He’s sat with Gabrielle and Gavin through an entire sermon on the evils of deception and the need to see through lies, and Franz couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful it was over. “They really need to cushion these seats,” Gavin complained as they made their way out of the First Church of the Blessed. 

“Faith isn’t supposed to be comfortable, Gavin,” Franz reminded him. 

“It’s also not supposed to give me blisters.” 

“Maybe it is. Saints and martyrs all got worse than some blisters.” 

“I’m not a saint or a martyr.” Gavin rolled his eyes. 

“No, just a grumpy little boy with a sore backside.”

“You want to fight, buddy?”

“What, right here, in this holy place? You should be ashamed, Gavin.” 

“I should never have let the two of you talk to each other,” Gabrielle interrupted, shaking her head at them both. “Try to act like normal people until we’re alone, at least.”

“Normalcy is for people with no imagination,” Franz told her, as they made their way out of the church. With the slightest of nods, Gavin indicated something off to Franz’s left. Franz glanced over there and saw a cascade of pink flowers planted into a massive stone planter off to the side a bit. 

He did owe Gabrielle a flower for today. 

Gavin had been showing him the flowers, but Franz noticed something he needed to do equally as much and smiled, turning it on the two of them. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” 

“Don’t think I don’t see you bowing out as soon as the High Presbyter is headed our way.” Gabrielle didn’t sound impressed. 

Franz hadn’t even seen the man, though he did now, old and heavy with it, huffing over to the three of them. Gavin was looking around for an escape. “Those cushionless pews seem a lot more inviting now, don’t they?” Franz asked, bowing and moving back a bit. “If I’m here when he gets here, how can I save you from him in a few strategic minutes?” 

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Gabrielle grumbled, but she didn’t stop Franz from moving away, over towards the planter. As a bonus, her attention was taken up with the High Presbyter just after Franz left. 

He made his way over to the flowers, and to the man standing in front of them. “Lord Dominic.” 

“Prince Franz.” Dominic looked only a little surprised. It was not uncommon for the various members of the nobility to linger here on the steps after the week’s service, and Franz had seen Dominic here a number of times. Finally he was on his own, and here was a perfect opportunity to talk to him without it looking suspicious. “Quite a service today, wasn’t it?”

“It always is,” Franz said, reaching out to pull a flower from the arrangement, looking down at it as if inspecting it. Which, to be fair, he was. “Lecturing a room full of liars about lying.”

“As if the High Presbyter’s position is achieved only through piety and prayer, and not through political machinations of its own.” Dominic smiled. His combed-back hair shone in the sun. “The irony was palpable. I didn’t realize you were interested in flowers.”

“I’ve not yet given one to my princess today,” Franz said, holding it up for Dominic’s approval. “I did promise her one every day, and I hardly think breaking such a small promise makes for a good start to our relationship, don’t you agree?”

“So you steal one from the Catechism.”

“Perhaps I shall tell her I grew it myself. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the irony as well.” 

Dominic gave him a chuckle at that. “Perhaps she will. I’m glad you and she are getting along.” 

“As am I. It would make for a most depressing marriage otherwise.” 

“I suspect you didn’t come over here to talk to me about flowers and your impending marriage, my prince.” 

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we lived in a world where that were reasonable?” Franz asked, looking off into the crowd. “At least we have this nice pretense.” 

“And what would you like to discuss today?” Dominic asked him, also watching the crowd. 

Franz was watching Orwell Feestings talk to Mia Hardhold, while Turner and Matthew chatted a little ways away. “I underestimated him; Lord Orwell, I mean.” Turner was wearing a silver ring on his finger. 

“Did you?”

“I didn’t think he was capable of it.” And Franz still didn’t. “I know he’s the king’s advisor, the lord of a powerful house, that he was bred into politics from his birth, but it just…surprised me a little.” Franz smiled at Dominic now. “The unfortunate consequence of my being new, I’m afraid.” 

“I think that Turner and Gloria’s betrothal surprised everyone, my prince.” Dominic told him, also watching Feestings. “Orwell has always been ambitious but he’s never been the best at making that ambition a reality. I wouldn’t be too worried about not having seen it coming.” 

Franz nodded. “Turner seems happy enough, at least.” 

“I’m sure he is. Gloria is a lovely young lady, don’t you think?”

“Lord Dominic,” Franz chided. “You know Gabrielle is the only young lady I’m interested in.” 

“And you hope to win her over with flowers,” Dominic reached up as if to touch the bloom, but didn’t. “Ambitious.”

“We’re all ambitious, Lord Dominic. That’s why we’re still here.” Franz looked sideways at Dominic now. “Lord Dominic of the White Nail, which is a place, not even a city, just a section of river. You haven’t got a family name. And you’re here anyway, talking to someone who’s going to be the king. I think you’re the most ambitious of all of us, aren’t you?”

Dominic had stiffened a little at that, but he eased now. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m just lucky. You have my word I’m here only to serve the crown, nothing more.” 

“As are we all,” Franz was having a hard time getting a read on Dominic. He sounded sincere, but something seemed a bit off. “I didn’t mean to cast aspersions, Lord Dominic. I’m sure his Highness the king wouldn’t trust you if you weren’t trustworthy.” And useful. “But I should like to get to know you better.” 

“I suspect we would both benefit from that, my prince.”

“I hear you are quite the philanthropist.” He heard it from Boey, obviously. Dominic inclined his head just so, maybe surprised, maybe not. His charity was mostly done anonymously, which Franz thought was both interesting and telling. “Perhaps I could lend some support to that orphanage you’ve been building in the…”

“Dominic! Prince Franz!”

Franz trailed off, looked up to see Kenneth Wrathwate approaching them with a smile on his face. He’d been talking to Helena a moment ago, though he seemed to have saddled Kieran with that responsibility so he could come over here. “Lord Kenneth, a pleasure.” Franz nodded as Kenneth entered their space in front of the flowers. 

“You left your poor son over there to talk to Helena and Hector both?” Dominic asked, eyebrow cocked, voice full of cheer. “What has he done to deserve that?”

Kenneth laughed boisterously. “He’s a smart lad. He can keep up with them.”

“Really, now?” Dominic nodded, but didn’t sound convinced. “They’re both rather skilled conversationalists.” 

“They are rather frighteningly intelligent, aren’t they?” Franz watched Kieran talk to Helena, with Hector putting in the occasional comment, most of which seemed to be accompanied with punches to the arm. Franz thought Kieran was smart too, but he had no doubt that he could not keep up with both Quates at once. 

“Only frightening if it’s directed against you,” Dominic told him, and Franz nodded, though he didn’t entirely agree. “I, for one, endeavour to make sure that it is not. For everyone, not only Lady Helena.”

“Indeed,” Kenneth rumbled. “It is far better to have friends than enemies if it can be avoided. The more friends you have, the better to help you with the inevitable enemies!” He chuckled as if that had been a joke. “So, your Highness, I hear you and our princess have been getting along since your return!”

“Quite well, Lord Kenneth, thank you. I believe that Gabrielle and I are a good match.” At the very least, he liked talking to her now that they’d gotten on proper speaking terms. That was a good sign. “And I have found a new brother in Gavin as well, so all seems to have worked out for the best.”

“Wonderful to hear, your Highness. When I married my wife, her brother tried to push me out a window—and our relationship hasn’t improved since. Why, just last year when we went to her mother’s funeral, he…”

Franz glanced at Dominic, not listening to Lord Kenneth. He was the picture of attention, but just for an instant he seemed to quirk a smile at Franz. 

When Kenneth paused to take a breath, Franz held out his hand in apology. “I’m very sorry, my lords, but I must take my leave. I believe my betrothed is in need of rescuing before someone saves her soul by mistake.”

Kenneth looked over at the High Presbyter, who was holding his arms apart while Gabrielle and Gavin tried to look interested, and let out a guffaw. “Yes, of course. He’s a bit of a windbag, that one. You’ll get in both of their good books if you can rescue them from him.”

“That is where I strive to be, Lord Kenneth. Excuse me. Lord Dominic.”

“Another time, Prince Franz.”

Franz nodded with a smile and abandoned Dominic to Kenneth, making his way back to the stairs. That hadn’t been as productive as he’d liked, but he could hardly do anything about Dominic with Kenneth Wrathwate bloviating all over the place. 

He approached Gabrielle just in time to hear Gavin saying to the High Presbyter, “It may be best to unseal that old mausoleum, your Holiness. If they’re in the walls, that’s likely where they came from.” 

“Well, we’ve not seen another one since that day, your Highness. I wouldn’t worry too much—likely it was only the one creature.”

“Still.” Gavin glanced at Gabrielle, who was looking at him a little curiously. “Are you able to contact the two who found it?”

“The young mage is named Ariel, and can be found in their academy,” the High Presbyter said to Gavin, glancing at Franz as he approached. “I believe the young knight was named Edwin.” 

Gavin looked at Gabrielle again, who nodded. “I’ve seen him in the fortress. He’s good with a sword, and he’ll get better when he stops being afraid of it.” 

“Maybe you could talk to him,” Gavin’s suggestion didn’t sound like a suggestion to Franz. 

“You going to tell me why?”

“Later.” 

“In any case, your Highnesses, there is no need to fear for the integrity of the church. The angels and the saints protect us always, just as they protect you and your family. It has always been thus, and our duty is merely to serve in body and soul…”

Franz sensed that this was a good time to interrupt. “Excuse me, your Holiness,” he said to the High Presbyter. “I hate to interrupt, but I’m afraid this can’t wait.” 

Franz bowed before Gabrielle, presenting her the flower he’d taken. “Your flower, your Highness.” 

Gabrielle took it, tapping him on either shoulder as if knighting him. She sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Marry me, I hope.”

“I’ll think about it.” Shaking her head, Gabrielle regarded the flower. “You’ve beaten me again. I don’t have one for you yet.” 

“Ah, love,” the High Presbyter sighed. “The most blessed of God’s gifts. I look forward to your marriage immensely, your Highnesses.”

“As do we both, your Holiness,” Gabrielle promised, taking Franz’s hand in hers. 

He looked down at that, and nodded. “I shall leave you to each other, then. Until next week, princess.”

“Thank you, your Holiness.” Gabrielle nodded graciously at him, only rolling her eyes a little bit, and only when he was past. “That was a faster rescue than I was expecting,” she told Franz, grudgingly. 

“The urgency of the mission increased suddenly, and it became mutual.” Franz smiled. “You’re now rescuing me from Kenneth Wrathwate, as well.”

“Oh, God.” Gabrielle took a firmer hold of Franz’s hand, guiding him down the stairs and to the carriage that was waiting for the three of them. “Let’s go before he tries to come over here.”

“I think we could outrun him,” Gavin said, chuckling. But he kept up. “I say we throw Franz at him if he tries to catch us.” 

“Agreed.”

“Hey! After all I’ve done for you.” 

“We must all suffer, Franz, isn’t that what you said?” Gavin asked him. “And after that very embarrassing display you just put on, I’m not sure I want to be seen with you anyway.” 

“I think he’d rather speak to you, wouldn’t he?” Franz asked. “I hear he tried to sound you out to marry Kieran.” Franz had heard it from Kieran. Hearing the knowledge that Gavin preferred men apparently had greeted by Lord Kenneth with enthusiastic comments about the fact that he had a marriageable son. 

Kieran didn’t like men, but that didn’t seem to matter to Lord Kenneth.

“Ah!” Gavin covered his ears, glaring. “I changed my mind. Go back to flirting with my sister.” 

“I think you and Kieran would make a lovely couple, Gavin.” 

“Shut up.”

“Gavin Wrathwate.” 

“I hate you.” 

“I think he’s right, Gavin,” Gabrielle said, twirling her flower. 

“No.” Gavin sent Gabrielle a scandalized look. “Don’t team up on me. You two aren’t allowed to get married if you team up on me.”

“Just that it would be good for the security of the kingdom.”

“Where’s Owen, he’ll back me up on this. I need help against you two horrible people.”

“Don’t worry.” Gabrielle clapped Gavin on the arm as they reached the carriage. “I wouldn’t tear you away from Owen. I’m not that mean.”

Gavin huffed, looked at Gabrielle. “I know.”

Gabrielle smiled at him, glancing at Franz. “I’m probably going to tell him about Kieran, though.”

“God, Gabrielle, no, stop.”

“Seems only fair to me that he ought to know about the competition.” Though if it was decided that Gavin was going to marry someone, his common born lover wouldn’t be much competition at all, Franz feared. Which was too bad, because it was obvious that Gavin really did love him.

“I don’t like this. You’re the worst. We should go back to picking on Franz. Or annoying Gabrielle, that was fun.”

“Sorry, but your sister and I teaming up is kind of mandatory, you know. You’d better get used to it.” Franz smiled, waving for Gavin to get in the carriage ahead of him while Gavin glared. 

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” Gabrielle told him, giving him a shove, and Franz couldn’t help but smile at that. Gabrielle gave him a look, and he got in the carriage as well. 

Gabrielle had lied. There was a blue flower sitting on the seat waiting for him.


	18. Interruptions Are No Big Deal When You're Really Invested in What You're Doing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sex, some plot, I try to keep them separate but it doesn't always work.

Franz’s loincloth was unravelling. 

It was his own fault, he hadn’t tied it very well after he’d gotten out of the bath earlier. He’d only put it on because Boey had insisted he needed to be wearing something in case any of the servants came into the rooms, which they hadn’t. He was too lazy to tie it properly, so instead Franz was trying hard not to fidget as he sat on the sofa reading the Book of Divine Foretellings. 

It was all very riveting stuff, with its rivers of ice and people wearing each other’s skin. Too bad none of it made any sense, but Franz supposed that was the point. If it did, how could priests spend centuries telling people what it meant?

But it provided enough entertainment to distract him until Boey was out of the bathtub so they could go to bed, at least. Franz amused himself trying to figure out where in all of this that priest back home had managed to convince himself that Franz’s mother was the devil’s Leader, to no avail as usual. Honestly, all the stuff about walking the halls of the elect and seducing the righteous into the legions of the damned was pretty generic, it could apply to most people who Franz knew. And the parts that were specific were about a crown made of birds and a honey-mouthed demon on a long chain and they didn’t make any sense anyway.

When mom had repeatedly failed to start the apocalypse, people had just sort of naturally stopped listening to the crazy priest. Franz wondered what had happened to him. 

Franz heard Boey’s footsteps coming from the bath into the living room, and he said, “You know, the devil’s kind of an asshole. If he’d just sit down and rationally explain his position instead of baking people alive in the ovens of torment, maybe he’d…” Franz looked up as he spoke, eyes landing on Boey. 

He hadn’t dressed after coming out of the bath, and stood there in the doorway of the room stark naked, almost dry but with wet hair, some droplets of water running down his chest. 

He was hard, and he smirked at Franz. “I was thinking about you while I washed. You look a little distracted, Franz. What were you saying?”

“Don’t move,” Franz ordered, putting the book aside and standing without a care for his precariously tied loincloth, straining a bit under his own growing erection. 

It stayed on as he crossed the room, but Franz didn’t care. Boey did as Franz had asked, standing there and letting Franz come to him. Franz stopped just in front of Boey, hands out as if to touch him, hovering over the vision that was his companion. “You know you’re the most attractive person I’ve ever met?” he asked. 

“I know,” Boey said with a smile. “You’re not to bad yourself.”

Franz gave Boey a grin, and got down on his knees without another word. “I’m told I look even better from above.” 

“I’m liking the view so far.”

“How about now?” Franz asked, taking Boey’s cock in his hand, and putting his lips over it, looking up at Boey the whole time. 

“Oh, God.” Boey took in a shuddering breath. “Yeah, that’s…the best view of you, Franz.” 

Franz was pretty sure this was the best view of Boey as well, and he demonstrated that by sucking on him, pulling more and more of Boey into his mouth, using his hand to keep Boey steady and his other hand to rub up and down Boey’s leg and thigh. 

“Mm, Franz…” Boey’s hand found Franz’s hair, fisting in it a bit. Not pushing him down, just pulling his hair for stimulation. Franz groaned a little and used his tongue to lap at Boey’s head, going just a bit deeper as he did. 

Franz was straining against the badly tied fabric of his loincloth, and suddenly Boey’s foot was there, right on his erection, rubbing. Franz felt the knot come undone, but Boey’s foot kept his erection clothed even as he used it to massage Franz, to drive him closer to distraction, to get Franz to suck him harder, and deeper. Franz loved Boey’s feet and Boey knew that, and as he started to moan around Boey’s dick, he knew there was a very real possibility that he would cum first. 

He almost didn’t hear the knocking at the door, but Boey did and he let go of Franz’s hair. “Franz, stop.” 

Franz did, question in his eyes as he looked up at Boey. 

“The door.” 

Another series of knocks came, and Franz closed his eyes, sighed through his nose. They would just come in if he didn’t answer. So he pulled off of Boey, sitting back. “I hate having servants.”

“You’d starve without them.” Boey looked just as irritated, but he shook his head. “Tie your loincloth properly. I’ll go wait in the bathing room until you’re done.”

Franz nodded, going to stand as Boey retreated back to the other room. “Come in,” he called as he went about putting the loincloth in properly. It couldn’t do anything to hide his erection or the wet spot on the front, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. 

Frederick entered the room, a roll of paper in hand. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, my prince.”

“It’s fine, Frederick, you caught me just as I finished my bath,” Franz lied. “I’m headed to bed soon, but what I can do for you?”

The look on Frederick’s face and the slight blush on his cheeks were enough to tell Franz that the boy had at least an inkling of what he’d interrupted. Being in possession of the same anatomy as Franz, his page probably didn’t have to work hard to figure it out. 

Come to think of it, Franz wondered if anyone had explained to Frederick the things that were supposed to be explained to boys before they became men. Maybe he was supposed to.

Frederick didn’t make eye contact, but instead held out the roll of paper. “You…you asked me to bring you word from Lord Quate the moment it came in, sir.” 

“Yes, I did.” Franz took the roll of paper, which wasn’t from Hector, and smiled at Frederick. “I guess it was silly of me to think he’d want to talk to me at a normal time of day.” 

Frederick chuckled a little, nodding. “I’ll…um, I’ll leave you be now, sir.”

“Frederick, I’m not upset that you came,” Franz told him, taking a sympathetic tone. “You were only doing what I asked.”

“Yes, sir. Still…”

“There are more things that princes and common people have in common than things that we don’t,” Franz went on. “No matter who you are, being embarrassed about something normal is silly.”

“Right.” Frederick nodded, and he managed to look up at Franz’s face for the first time. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You knocked, and that’s what matters to me. Imagine what you’d have done had you not.” 

Frederick chuckled, face filling with colour. “I’ll…tell the rest of the servants that you’re retiring for the night, sir. And not to bother you.” He gave a quick look around the room just then, eyes stopping for just a half-second on the door to the bathing room. 

“Thank you.” Franz nodded. “I won’t force you to stand here and converse with me like this. I’ll see you tomorrow and I promise to be mostly dressed.” 

Another quiet laugh, and Frederick nodded. “Goodnight, my prince.”

“Goodnight, Frederick,” Franz told him, and Frederick retreated from the room, closing the door with a click behind him. 

Franz sighed, looked down at the roll of paper. He unrolled it, read the message that was written in a fluid script much neater than Hector’s. _Don’t wear blue to the banquet._

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Franz muttered to the paper, looking up as Boey re-emerged. He held out the paper for him to read. “The Suntowers?”

“Probably, their crest is blue,” Boey told him, frowning over the letter. “I’ll keep an eye on them.” 

Franz nodded. The royal banquet that was coming up in about a week was a prime opportunity for a lot of political manoeuvring. And also a prime opportunity for someone to try and kill a princess. Helena was worried, which had Franz worried too. 

Boey sighed. “Okay.” He took the paper over and set it on the table. “We’ll worry about it tomorrow. Nothing we can do about it tonight.”

“Yeah. Frederick looked for you, while he was in here.” Franz wasn’t totally sure what to make of it. “Could just be that he wondered where you went when I was like this.” He pointed at himself, still hard. 

“Or it could be because he expected me to be nearby because you were.” Boey nodded. “You’re going to have to tell him. I told you he was smart enough to figure it out.” 

“We’re not the best at hiding it,” Franz admitted. 

“No. And hiding around the corner so he couldn’t see me was one of the worst feelings of my life. I don’t want to do that again if I can avoid it.” 

Franz bit his lip a little, swallowing back a lump in his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Boey was emotionless in a way that Franz didn’t like. 

“Yes, it is. Let me make up to you?”

Boey smirked, turning and leaning back against the table a little. “I do remember you doing something with your tongue that I liked. Finish what you started and I might forgive you.” He was still hard, jutting out into the air. 

Franz grinned, got in front of Boey and dropped to his knees. “Forgive me enough to keep doing what you were doing with your foot?”

Boey laughed. “Take off your loincloth.”

Excited, Franz did, fumbling a little as he untied the knot and finally freeing himself from it, tossing it aside and grinning up at Boey for approval, who moved his foot to rub Franz’s uncovered erection. As he did, Franz took Boey back in his mouth, as much as he could in one gulp, and started sucking again at the same speed he’d been before. 

Able to put his weight on the table now, Boey was able to use his foot to better advantage, gripping Franz’s head between two toes and stroking up and down, flexing as he went. Franz shivered in the heat, lapping his tongue against the length of Boey’s hardness, and he relaxed his throat and let Boey in all the way, sliding down Boey’s shaft until he could go no farther. Then he pulled back until only the tip was his mouth, and Franz bathed that in tongue attention for a good minute before sliding back down and letting Boey into his throat with a hard suck. 

As he went back down he kept his eyes up, watching Boey. Boey had closed his eyes and thrown his head back, panting. He pressed his foot onto Franz’s cock, rubbing it against Franz’s belly as he massaged it, and his hand was back in Franz’s hair, pulling. 

Franz could feel himself getting closer to finishing and he was determined that Boey was going to cum first, so he pulled off but for the head, sucking as hard as he could on the most sensitive part of Boey, unrelentingly licking it all over as he did. Boey cried out, pulled his foot back just a little, forcing Franz to follow him with a buck of his hips. 

Boey’s first spurt filled Franz’s mouth just before Franz’s coated Boey’s foot, so he called it a win and focused on swallowing even as he cried out around Boey’s cock. 

“Franz…” Boey moaned, leaning back against the table, his foot twitching as Franz made a mess of it. When he was done searing Franz’s tongue, he sagged a little, trying to catch his breath as he looked down at Franz. 

Franz pulled off, smiling weakly up at him. Boey returned it. And offered Franz his foot, cum-covered. 

Franz’s smile widened and he took Boey’s foot by the ankle, gently holding it in both hands as he leaned down and gave the heel a lick, up the sole and to the toes. Boey’s breath caught. Franz gave another lick, and another, and kept going until Boey’s foot was totally clean, even sucking on each individual toe to make sure he got it all. 

Both of them were still hard when he was done.

“I love you,” Boey said, looking down at Franz in a way that made him sure it was true. 

“I love you too,” Franz told him, standing, and leaning in for a kiss.

“Nope.” Boey put a hand on Franz’s chest, stopping him from getting any closer. 

“Boey!”

“That was just on my foot, you’re not kissing me with it.”

“Your foot is clean! You just had a bath!” Franz pouted. He wanted to kiss Boey. 

“You know the rules. Go wash your mouth out and then we’ll talk.”

“Fine, fine.” Franz huffed, went over to the tray on the nearby table and poured himself a cup from the pitcher. When he was finished washing his mouth out, he returned to Boey, who was reading Helena’s letter again. 

Franz took it from his hand. “Tomorrow. Tonight it’s just us.”

“Okay.” Boey smiled. “What shall we do with our time together?”

“Well…” Franz leaned in for his kiss, blinked when Boey moved back. “Hey.”

Boey smirked at him, moved out from under Franz, and headed for the bedroom. “Let’s get in bed, and I’ll think about it.” 

Franz followed him, captivated as he always was.


	19. Coming Out Is Always Stressful

“It’s already starting to get cold again,” Franz complained. 

“It’s not really,” Boey told him. “It’s still pretty hot. It’s still summer.”

“Yes, but not for much longer, and it’s not as hot as it was.”

“It was too hot before, you just like to complain.” 

“And you just like to disagree with me.”

“Frederick, it was too hot before, wasn’t it?”

“Um…” Frederick looked between the two of them, and he nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

“See?”

Franz rolled his eyes, stung by the betrayal. “After the interminable nature of last winter, I reserve the right to dread its successor.” 

“And I reserve the right to call you a wimp.” 

“You suck,” Franz told Boey, sighing as he bit into a piece of toast. He glanced at Frederick. “The arrangements for the tailor’s visit today?”

“Made, sir,” Frederick told him, also eating. He’d finished his breakfast, but Boey had made him take more. “He’ll be here just after lunch. He claims the work is finished.”

“Well, it had better me, I hardly have time to commission a new outfit before the banquet,” Franz said with a shake of his head. “So hopefully he did…” He was cut off by a knock at the door.

Frederick stood, pushing his chair in behind him, and hurried to answer it. “Is Prince Franz within?” Franz heard from outside. 

It was Gabrielle’s voice, so he made an effort to swallow the food that was in his mouth, sending a glance to Boey, as Frederick opened the door to admit her. “Her Highness Princess Gabrielle, my prince.”

“Thank you, Frederick.” Franz stood, giving Gabrielle a little bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this, your first visit to my apartments?” Under the table, Dragon got up and pushed the chairs aside to go see her. 

Gabrielle snorted, patting the dog on the head. “If I’d known you were in the mood to be florid I’d have gone somewhere else instead.” 

“Deepest apologies, my princess. Chair?” He offered her the one beside where Frederick had been sitting. “Have you eaten?”

“I have.” Gabrielle took the chair, sat down. Gave Boey a bit of an interested look. Dragon lay down beside her. “I figured I’d come and pick up the last of your daily flowers in person, rather than making you come to me.”

“How do you know I didn’t arrange a whole dancing troupe and circus routine to deliver you the last one?” Franz protested. “You might be ruining the whole thing.” 

“You’re not resourceful enough for that. And circuses are awful.” 

“True enough,” Franz would keep which part of that was true to himself. To preserve an aura of mystery. “Well, in that case, here you go.” The little box he’d been planning to bring her was sitting beside Franz’s plate, and he handed it over, watching as Gabrielle lifted the lid.

Gabrielle took the flower out of the box, a silver broach on a pin, cast into the shape of a rose. “This is lovely.”

“I wanted to give you at least one that wouldn’t wither.” Franz smiled as Gabrielle pinned it onto her collar. “And I figured something too big would get in your way while you were punching people.” 

“You’re surprisingly thoughtful.” 

“I don’t think the adverb was necessary there.”

“And yet there it was,” Gabrielle said, leaning an elbow onto the table, considering Boey. “I’m sorry, I’ve heard of this mysterious retainer of yours but I’ve never met him. This is Boey?”

“Yes,” Franz gestured at him, unnecessarily. “Boey, her Highness, Gabrielle ven Sancte.” 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, your Highness.” Boey had stood with Franz, but hadn’t sat back down. 

“And yours as well. How long have you been with the prince?”

“Since I was seven, your Highness.” 

“Interesting.”

 _Fuck_. Franz could tell just from this interaction that any sort of misdirection wasn’t going to work. And he remembered what Boey had said the other night about how hiding in the other room had made him feel. 

He couldn’t do that to Gabrielle, and he definitely couldn’t do it to Boey. 

“In the south, a lot of nobility have personal retainers called companions,” Franz told her, drinking some of the bitter tea they liked up here. 

“Yes, I’m familiar with the tradition,” Gabrielle told him. “You’re put together as children and raised together, yes?”

“That’s right.” Boey was giving Franz looks now, but he kept going. “The idea isn’t one of a servant, though Boey and I have let people assume that since we got here. It’s more of a…a partnership.” Franz stopped there for now, waiting for Gabrielle’s reaction. 

Gabrielle was nodding, watching Franz and Boey in turns as if searching for something. Behind her, Frederick was frowning a little. “I see,” Gabrielle said after a minute. “So, what’s the extent of that partnership?”

“Well first off all, Boey’s my first political advisor. And when you’re queen you should accept him as one of yours too, since he’s a lot smarter than either of us.” 

“Is that so?”

“It is,” Franz promised, even as he could feel Boey flushing beside him.

“Okay.” Gabrielle tapped her fingers on the table. “If he knows what he’s doing that doesn’t bother me.”

Franz nodded, suddenly a little dry in the mouth. He drank the rest of his tea. “Companions are also usually partners, physically speaking.” He couldn’t make himself say any more than that.

Gabrielle fixed him with a raised eyebrow, hand coming up and brushing the broach she’d just put on. “I guess that’s to be expected. Stick two people together and make them to through adolescence together and some things are inevitable.” 

Franz nodded. “Normally it’s, you know, a temporary thing, part of growing up.”

Gabrielle sighed, gave a look that managed to encompass both of them. “Why are you telling me this? I don’t care if you used to have sex.”

Falling silent, Franz looked away for a minute. When he managed to raise his head again with a deep breath, Gabrielle’s expression had changed to one of understanding. “You’re not telling me this because it was in the past.”

“No.”

“It’s an ongoing thing.” 

Franz nodded. Frederick looked ready to swallow his tongue behind Gabrielle. But he’d needed to be told as well and telling him at the same time as Gabrielle meant that it couldn’t be used as a weapon against Franz later.

“Why,” Gabrielle asked again, “are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s not fair to you to lie about it. And you’d find out anyway, and then you’d be mad that I lied. And it’s not fair to Boey to make him lie about it.” Franz sighed. “Lying is awful and we do too much of it, don’t you think?”

“I do.” Gabrielle sat back, crossed her arms. She looked at Boey. “And what about you? What’s your opinion on this?”

Boey shrugged. “I…I always knew that Franz would marry someone who wasn’t me someday.” 

“That’s not an answer to the question,” Gabrielle said. “Do you love him?”

Boey nodded, immediately and without hesitation. “I do.” 

“I love him too,” Franz added, with no reservation. “And I get that’s asking a lot from you, but…”

“Shhh,” Gabrielle said, holding up a hand. “I’m talking to Boey. It’s asking a lot from _you_ , isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Boey admitted. “But it’s not asking anything I’m not willing to give.”

“You’re willing to give him up?”

“No.” That was even more emphatic than Boey’s nod earlier. “But I’m willing to share. I always assumed I was going to have to share him.”

Gabrielle nodded slowly, watching Boey. “I never imagined having to share my husband,” she said, and Franz’s stomach clenched. “But I guess it doesn’t bother me much. As long as you two don’t cause some huge scandal or something.” 

“I’m pretty good at convincing Franz not to do things that are stupid, your Highness” Boey told her.

“I’m right here,” Franz reminded them, feeling oddly lightheaded. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Gabrielle waved Franz into silence. “Seems if you’re going to be sleeping with my husband you can call me by name, Boey.”

Boey smiled at her, nodding. “It’s nice to meet you, Gabrielle.” 

“Why do I have a feeling you’re the brains of this operation?”

“Because you’ve spent enough time with Franz?”

“Hey!”

“He’s really very intelligent, I promise.”

“I’ll reserve judgement until later on that,” Gabrielle promised, with a deep sigh. 

“This was a terrible idea,” Franz declared, gesturing ineffectually at both of them. “Go back to not knowing each other.”

Boey smiled, taking his chair again and putting a hand over Franz’s. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I wish you’d told me you were going to do that, but thank you.” 

Franz gave him a smile. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

“Oh, God.” Gabrielle said, with another sigh. “You two are just as sappy as Gavin and Owen. Why is this happening to me?”

“Because you’re such a wonderful person?” Franz asked. 

Gabrielle sighed, reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a folded paper flower. She tossed it onto the table, and it landed where Franz and Boey’s hands met. “For you. One that won’t wilt,” she said, smiling at him. 

“You know, I really do like you,” Franz told her. “I’m glad that the stranger I ended up stuck with turned out to be you.”

“Me too,” Gabrielle said. “You’re not the worst person in the world, at least. Neither of you are.” 

“Boey might secretly eat babies for lunch, you don’t know.”

“I suppose. Tell me about yourself, Boey. Seems like we should get to know each other if you’re that important to Franz.” 

Boey started to tell her, and Franz had to interrupt occasionally because he tended to leave out the good parts. Gabrielle ended up staying through lunch, and it was proven that none of them ate babies. The day ended up going a lot better than Franz had dared imagine.


	20. Parties Are a Lot of Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final part of the mega-crossover. Thanks to all those who stuck with me through it. :) As usual though, it can be read in isolation if you prefer.

The banquet was pretty much what Franz had expected it to be. They tended to all be the same and he’d been to a lot of them. 

“I can’t help but wonder who you’re afraid you’re going to lose,” Gabrielle said to him with a smile. Her dress was in shades of purple, but her jewelry was all green and she was wearing the broach Franz had given her. “You’ve spent all night looking around like you were counting people.”

Franz smiled and tipped his wineglass at her a little. “My very first royal banquet was when I was four years old. My mother had me play a game where I spent the whole night watching to see who talked to whom, and then she gave me a candy the next day if I could remember. That was how our parties always went after that. It’s become a habit.”

“A useful habit,” Gabrielle looked out at the room. “I can’t imagine a four-year-old being very good at it.”

“I was okay. I got better at it after I met Boey.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I got better at most things after I bet Boey. When mom put a wineglass in my hand when I was twelve, he was the one who made sure I still won the game even with the raised difficulty.” 

“Maybe I should marry Boey.”

Franz laughed. “I don’t share as well as he does. And he doesn’t like women.”

“Do you?”

Franz glanced at Gabrielle, who was looking at him curiously. “I do. Especially the one right in front of me.”

“Oh, stop.” Gabrielle shook her head with a snort. “Nobody can hear you right now.”

“All the more reason to give you compliments, then.” 

It might have been Franz’s imagination, but Gabrielle seemed to redden a little under that. “I hear that you’re good friends with Hector,” she said, obviously changing the subject. 

“That’s right. I like him.”

Gabrielle nodded. “Me too. How is Helena these days?”

Franz glanced out across the room, found Helena talking to Mia Hardhold. “Doing well, as far as I know.”

“Sometimes I wonder if Hector thinks we’re only his friends so his mother can get to us in secret.” 

“That’s not the only reason we’re his friends. I do like him, honestly.” Hector was a fun person, and a smart one. The two things that Franz liked in a person. 

“Good. I’d be disappointed if you were just using him.” 

“I try not to use people. I prefer asking for things to manipulating them out of people—especially my friends.”

Gabrielle nodded. “The more I talk to you the more I think we’re likely to get along, you know.”

“And here I thought we were getting along now,” Franz teased. Turner had just come back into the room after a lengthy absence, and he approached Gloria and kissed her hand. She’d been gone for several minutes too but had come back not long ago. And Matthew was missing at the moment. Franz knew better than to make much of it, sometimes people left to go to the privy or for some fresh air. And even if they were off doing something else, that didn’t mean it was something worth worrying about. 

Dominic had been gone for a good long time now, though, which Franz couldn’t help but notice. Elenora and Susanna had been in the room all night, though, and so had Hector and Helena. And Orwell Feestings. 

“I’m tolerating you now.” 

“That’s not what it seems like to me,” Franz dropped it though, now giving her an interested look. “When was your first royal banquet?”

“I think I might have been three or four. I had to remember everyone’s name if I wanted to be allowed to pick what we had for dinner the next day.” 

“And did you?”

Gabrielle smiled at him. “Boey wants to talk to you.” 

Franz looked over his shoulder, saw Boey standing there. “Come here. What are you skulking for?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Boey said, joining them, giving Gabrielle a half-bow. 

“That sounds like code for ‘I want to tell you something and not have Gabrielle hear,’” Gabrielle joked, not sounding bothered. 

“I’m sure it’s not like that.”

“It’s fine. Just as long as you’re not planning to secretly assassinate me.” 

Franz laughed. “Now where would be the benefit in that? Everyone would know it was me and I’d have robbed the world of you.” 

“You just keep right on being charming. I’ll be around.” Gabrielle patted Franz on the hand as she left, immediately engaged by someone from the mages’ academy. They’d brought three students with them and claimed that one of them was the mysterious chosen one, whatever that meant, but that they didn’t know which one yet. 

Franz found that all very suspicious, but anyway. 

“What’s going on?” Franz asked Boey when they were alone. Or as alone as it was possible to be in a room full of people. 

“Do you see that man?” Boey asked, nodding just slightly at a man in grey who was picking olives off a tray. With the meal over, tables with snacks had been set up near the walls to give people more room to mingle. 

“Yes, I’ve noticed him. Nobody knows who he is.” It wasn’t that unusual for minor functionaries or distant family members to show up at events like this. But in his watching the room, it had been clear to Franz that this man didn’t know anyone at all. At least not anyone he’d talked to. 

“More importantly, Helena doesn’t know who he is. And he has a knife.” 

Franz watched the man for a second longer before returning his gaze to Boey. “You’re sure.”

“I spoke to him for a few minutes just now,” Boey told Franz. He didn’t look worried. 

“And you spoke to Helena?”

“I spoke to Hector.” 

Franz nodded. “Okay. Why don’t you go suggest that he come talk to me?”

“Okay.” Boey looked around the room. “If there is going to be an attempt on Gabrielle’s life, I think it would be beneficial if we enlisted some help.”

“Maybe. But only if it’s someone we can trust.” There were few enough of those. “And I’d rather Gabrielle didn’t know about it if possible.”

“I’ll send Hector over here and see what I can do.”

“Talk to you later, Boey,” Franz said, nodding as Boey made his way across the room in search of Hector. 

Franz sighed. Why couldn’t they just have a fun party? Whoever was behind all this had a lot to answer for. 

Before he could ruminate on that overlong, Franz found himself not alone again. “Good evening, your Highness.” It was one of those three chosen one candidates, the slender, dark-haired one whose name Franz had forgotten. He was bowing in a way that made it clear he had no idea how to bow.

“Good evening, ah…” Peter and Nicholas were the other two. He couldn’t remember this one. This was why one should mean one, not three. And it was why he trusted wizards more than mages. At least wizards were good at math. “I’m terribly sorry, I know we just met earlier, but…”

“Isaac, your Highness,” the young mage said, smiling politely at him. 

“Right, of course. My apologies.” Franz offered Isaac a hand, which Isaac took and shook in a way that made it clear he had no idea how to shake hands either.

Maybe manners were a higher-level spell for mages.

“Don’t worry about it,” Isaac, looking at their hands a bit. “I’m sure you have more important things to think about than the names of every random person you meet.” 

“No, the people I meet are the most important thing I have to think about.” Since Isaac was obviously waiting for him to let go, Franz did. “There are just a lot of them sometimes, that’s all.” Maybe he should have played the name game like Gabrielle. His mother hadn’t made him start memorizing names until he’d been eight. “How are you liking the party?”

Isaac made a bit of a distressed face. “It’s a little fancier than what I’m used to. I feel like I’m going to break something by accident and get beheaded or something.”

And yet he’d come over here to talk to a prince. Either he was lying or very brave, and either way it got a laugh from Franz. “Don’t worry, if that was cause for beheading, I’d be a good few inches shorter already.” Franz hadn’t broken many things since coming to the north. Just that one vase and that one window. And that tapestry he’d put a hole in by mistake. “The north is a good deal more civilized than I’d been led to believe—they only whip people for breaking things up here.” 

“Oh…” Isaac’s face visibly fell. 

“A joke, Isaac.” Apparently humour was advanced magic too. 

“Y-yeah.” Isaac gave a forced laugh. “Right. So…is it true that it’s even hotter where you’re from than here?”

Behind Isaac, Franz could see Boey touching Hector’s shoulder. He nodded vaguely. “It is. This far too hot summer that everyone complained about for months was normal as far as I was concerned. If anything, it could have been warmer.” It was going to be cold soon. Franz wasn’t prepared. 

He would be prepared, once he found that bear fur he’d bought for Boey last year. Boey had hidden it somewhere. 

Isaac shook his head, aghast as northerners were at the idea of heat. “Oh, God, no thank you, I was melting as it was; there are only so many clothes I can take off.” 

“Yes, decency does have its downsides, doesn’t it?” Franz smiled kindly. He knew the feeling. 

But Isaac smiled back, mischievous. “Decency? No, I meant that I ran out of clothes after a while.” 

It was clear that Isaac was dead serious about that and Franz couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, dear,” he said. “You must have been quite a sight at the academy in the summer. The amazing naked chosen one.” It was one way to tell him apart from the other two.

“I might have been.” Isaac shrugged. “Do you like sightseeing, your Highness?”

That…Franz felt his eyebrows raise, just a fraction. There was only one way to interpret that. “Not something I’ve had a lot of time for, I’m afraid,” he said, choosing to ignore the innuendo. “I’ve been hoping I could take a visit to your academy, though. I’ve heard…” 

Franz didn’t get to finish telling Isaac what he’d heard—which was very little anyway—as Hector appeared just then with a thin smile. “Hey,” he said, interrupting. “Sorry to interrupt. I need you for a minute.” It was a good act, nobody would know that he was here because Franz had called him. 

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Franz said to Isaac, “I’ve got something to attend to. Maybe we could talk more later.” 

“Sure, of course.” Isaac looked a little disappointed, but he stepped back with a gracious smile. “Thanks for your time, your Highness.” Maybe he’d been serious in hitting on Franz just then. 

Franz nodded and let Hector lead him away, waiting until they were a good distance away. “Sorry for summoning you.”

“It’s fine. The proclivity of royals. Your messenger boy is very discreet,” Hector told him, casually looking around at the crowd. 

“Boey’s not a messenger boy,” Franz muttered, because he had to say it. He could have sent Frederick after Hector, but Frederick wasn’t here. 

“Okay,” Hector said, in that dismissive way that said he wasn’t worried about it. “Anyway. We got a murderer on our hands.”

“Well, he hasn’t murdered anyone yet,” Franz pointed out. 

Hector grunted. “Mom’s worried that he’s not alone.” Hector sounded worried too, and Franz realized that Helena still hadn’t told him what was going on. 

Frowning briefly, Franz glanced at Helena across the room. “We’re pretty sure someone’s trying to assassinate Gabrielle.” 

Hector was quiet for a second, then he looked at Franz, then he looked at his mother. Then he sighed. “Okay. Someday I’m going to convince her that I’m not a little kid anymore and that it’s okay to tell me important shit like when my friends are going to get killed.”

“Sorry.”

“For not telling me? Nah, it’s her I’m annoyed with. You don’t know me that well for all that we’re buddies.” Hector smiled at him. “So, what’s the plan?” 

“For now?” Franz looked around, found Boey. He was talking to Gavin’s Owen. Franz wasn’t sure that was the most constructive use of his time. “We’re going to recruit some help and find our man’s friends. And then we’ll arrest them, I suppose.”

“You suppose? What, have you not decided whether or not you want to go to Gabi’s funeral this week?” Hector sounded less upset now than he had, so Franz counted that as a plus. 

“My schedule is awfully packed, and I do quite like her, in fact.” Franz sighed. “So yes, we’ll arrest them.”

“What should I do?” Hector asked. 

Franz started to say something, then stopped, looking at Hector. “What do you think you should do?”

Hector frowned at Franz for a good long time. “I…I don’t know? I should…” He looked around the room for a second. “I should see if I can figure out who hired him for you. They’re in this room, for sure. Someone else will have noticed knife guy.”

Franz nodded. He needed Hector to learn to act on his own without his mother writing a script for him. “Good plan. I’ll come find you if something changes.” 

“Okay,” Hector nodded, gave Franz a look, then wandered off into the crowd. 

Boey was still talking to Owen and Franz wanted to know why, so he went to join them. 

“You’re sharp,” Boey was saying to Owen.

“Dull sellswords die,” Owen told Boey with a shrug that shifted his muscular shoulders. “Just entertaining myself. I’m sure they wouldn’t have let him in if he was dangerous.” They were looking at the man with the knife.

“Never underestimate the ability of guards to overlook the obvious,” Franz interrupted, drawing their attention. “I don’t think we’ve met.” He knew who Owen was, of course. Gavin had talked about his suitor often enough. 

Owen bowed. “Prince Franz, a pleasure to meet you. I’m Owen.” 

“Yes, Gavin’s lover. I’ve heard much about you.” Considering Owen was a mercenary, the brocaded coat and lacy cravat he was wearing were a bit much, though his purple was subtle and understated. It still clashed with his red hair rather intensely. 

“None of it good, I’m sure,” Owen told him, cocking a bit of a smile. 

Not really. “Gavin and Gabrielle both like you quite a bit.” And they both had good taste as far as Franz could tell, so there had to be something to that. 

“I should hope Gavin likes me more than quite a bit, your Highness.” Owen had a charming air about him, Franz had to admit. He spoke in a way that was equal parts self-deprecating and confident. 

“Yes, I think he does,” he said with a laugh. “Boey likes you too—if not as much as Gavin, I hope.” Boey and Owen had been talking on and off in the last few weeks since Franz had gotten to know Gavin. Franz hadn’t set Boey on Owen, but it was a useful friendship, he had to admit. “That makes three people whose opinions I value who like you, so it stands to reason that I should too.” 

“I didn’t know that liking people or not was based on reason, sir.” Owen also always sounded like he might be making fun, or at least he had so far. 

“A fair point,” Franz admitted. “Who is it that you think is dangerous?” 

“The same one we think is dangerous,” Boey told him. 

“What?” Owen was looking between the two of them. He probably didn’t realize the extent to which this was all artificial.

“Okay.” Franz nodded, reading Boey’s expression. That Owen had noticed the man with the knife of his own accord was a good sign, and even if it wasn’t, it did mean that Franz had to give him something to do before he messed something up. “Would you do me a favour, Owen?” 

“What’s that?” Owen sounded suspicious, and was standing in such a way as to make it seem like he should have armour on. 

“Keep an eye on him?” Franz asked, smiling. It was an innocuous enough thing for Owen to do.

Now Owen looked like he wanted a sword in his hand, and his formalwear looked even more out of place on him than it had before. All tone of humour had left his voice all of the sudden. “What’s going on?”

Franz looked at Boey for a minute, who was telling him to stop being cryptic without moving. “I have credible reason to think that someone here is going to make an attempt on Gabrielle’s life,” Franz told Owen. “It’s probably him.” 

Owen looked over at the man, clearly weighing him, before he turned back to Franz. “Then arrest him.”

“It’s not that easy.” Franz smiled. He didn’t expect Owen to understand the subtlety here.

Owen nodded and looked around the room again, pausing as he watched someone over Franz’s shoulder for a second. “Because you think there’s another one?”

Boey smirked. “Isn’t that man a little too obvious for your liking?” he asked Owen. 

“Yeah, I guess he is.” Owen sounded contemplative. And dangerous. “I’ll keep my eye out,” he promised. 

“We don’t want to spook them and cause them to disappear before we can catch them,” Franz warned him, worried that Owen would do something hasty. “Or have them act early and kill someone.”

“Yeah.” Owen gave another bow, deeper this time. “It was nice to speak with you, your Highness. I should go find Gavin.” 

“I’d caution against telling him anything right now.” As much as Franz thought Gavin was intelligent, his reputation for being impulsive preceded him and he didn’t need Gavin doing something that would endanger Gabrielle by mistake. Just like he didn’t need Gabrielle doing something that would endanger herself by mistake.

“Because you don’t want him to do something silly,” Owen’s humour was back now. “Don’t worry, your Highness. I’m a professional.”

A professional what, Franz wondered. “It was nice to meet you, Owen. I look forward to talking again.” He had a feeling that Owen was going to do more than keep his eye out. He suddenly seemed a lot more competent than he had a minute ago, and Franz thought that maybe Boey had been right in coming here.

Which wasn’t surprising, Boey was always right. 

“Me too, sir. Good to see you, Boey.” Boey nodded at Owen as Owen moved away, headed towards Gavin, who had been made a target by Isaac. 

“Are you sure that was the best idea?” Franz asked Boey in low tones after Owen was gone.

“Yes. I trust Owen.”

“So do I, but this isn’t a situation he can punch his way through, Boey.”

Boey smiled. “I mean that I trust him to want to keep Gavin safe. I think he’s a lot smarter than you’re giving him credit for.” 

“Gavin’s not in danger,” Franz reminded Boey.

“No, but Gavin will want Gabrielle kept safe and when Owen tells him what you just said, he’ll make sure Owen knows that.” Boey looked entirely too satisfied with himself.

Franz scowled after him. It looked like Owen was scaring Isaac away from Gavin now. “I told him not to say anything.”

“And he smiled and nodded in that way that people do when they’re mentally telling you to jump off a bridge,” Boey finished. “If someone told me not to tell you that someone in your family was in danger, I’d do the same thing.”

“Yes, but…”

“Stop assuming that we’re the only intelligent people in this room, okay?” Boey asked, smiling. “There’s no reason that we should have to do everything ourselves.” 

Franz gave Boey a very long look before nodding. He would have preferred had he been more in control of the situation, but in the end he did trust Boey, so he nodded. “Sorry.”

“Yeah. Now go to work. We still have to find out where they came from.” 

“Well, we know that,” Franz said, glancing across the room at Orwell Feestings. 

“We assume. Don’t forget Helena’s warning.”

“Yeah.” Franz nodded, still watching Lord Orwell. “I haven’t.” If Elenora Suntower was the one responsible for his little plan, that was something they’d need to try and uncover. “I’m going to start with him. Since we know he’s in on it.”

Boey nodded. “Okay. I’ll come find you if anything important happens.” 

Franz nodded back. “Thanks.”

Slowly so as not to be obvious, Franz made his way across the banquet hall until he was at the same table as Lord Orwell. “Good evening, my Lord.”

“Ah, your Highness,” Lord Orwell said, leaning over a table and inspecting the pastries laid out. “A lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Franz smiled at him. “Rumours that you don’t know how to have fun in the north are vastly exaggerated.” 

Lord Orwell chuckled genially at that. “I am pleased to hear it. I had the pleasure of visiting Kyaine once when I was younger, you know.”

“Did you?” Franz hadn’t known that.

“I visited the city of Josef’s Boon for a trade agreement. It’s a lovely area.”

“It is,” Franz agreed. Josef’s Boon was nestled in the fork of the Saint’s River, where it broke into the Cyan and the Nyl. It was directly south of Three Hills, though quite a distance. “It’s not as nice as Hawk’s Roost.”

“I regret that I never made it that far west.”

“The Shrike’s Lake is breathtaking, especially in the summer,” Franz told him. 

“You must miss it.”

“I do.”

“I hope that you’re able to go back someday. I’m sure her Highness would love to see where you were born, sir,” Lord Orwell said. That second sentence sounded like an afterthought to Franz. 

“I should like to take her there someday,” Franz agreed, nodding. “When our duties here permit. Perhaps after the wedding.”

“Whose wedding?” 

Franz looked over his shoulder, smiled at Turner as he approached. He looked happier than he had the last few times Franz had seen him. “Mine.”

“Oh, thank God.” Turner grinned at him. “All anyone ever wants to talk to me about is mine these days. I welcome the opportunity to inflict it on someone else. Good evening, grandpa.”

“Hello, Turner. You seem pleased with yourself.”

“Do I?” Turner smiled a little, rocking on the balls of his feet. He did seem awfully happy. “I guess I do. I’m just feeling better about the betrothal, is all.”

“You weren’t feeling good about it before?” Franz asked, though he knew Turner hadn’t been. He hadn’t been obviously unhappy or anything, but it had been clear that he was acting a little. 

“Eh.” Turner shrugged. “I wasn’t too enamoured with the idea. Sorry,” he said, to Lord Orwell. “But I sort of realized just now, Gloria and I are friends and getting married to a friend is probably the best match you can hope for, yeah?”

“I agree,” Franz nodded, thinking of Boey. “It’s why I’ve been trying to be friends with Gabrielle before anything else.”

“It’s working. She says nice things about you when you’re not around.” 

“Is that so?” Franz grinned. “That’s good to hear. Now if only she’d say nice things about me when I am around.” 

“Let’s not get crazy.” 

Lord Orwell laughed at them both. “I wish I had been more like you two when I was your age. I was so angry about the marriage my parents had arranged me that I didn’t speak to my wife the first two months we were married. A lot of good time I could have spent trying to know her.” 

“What was she like, your wife?” Franz asked. He knew that Lord Orwell had been a widower for a rather long time and had never remarried. 

Lord Orwell smiled fondly. “A lovely lady, you could tell she was noble from across a city. She cared through and through for her people, to the point of letting them stay in our manor when a fire struck the poorest quarter of the city. She passed away twenty years ago, and I still wake up every day thinking of her.” 

It was clear that he’d loved his wife. “I’m sure you’ve heard this too many times, but I’m sorry for your loss, Lord Orwell.” 

“Thank you, my prince. Your sentiment is appreciated.” 

Franz stayed and chatted with Orwell Feestings for several minutes, asking him about his wife and his family, talking about Turner’s marriage and their family and their lands and the coming autumn. 

Franz learned nothing at all about why this old man wanted to kill his fiancé. 

When he disengaged from the two of them, Elenora Suntower was in striking distance, so that was where Franz headed next. “Lady Suntower, that’s a lovely gown you’re wearing tonight,” he said to open with. 

“Why, thank you, prince Franz. You look very handsome as well.” She was wearing sparkling blue and she smiled at him. “Now that we’ve adequately compliment each other and I have you here for a socially mandated period of time, shall we talk about the economy for a minute?”

Franz laughed a little, nodding as he did. “I hear there was a bit of a trade hiccough recently.”

“Three merchant ships travelling from Bright Harbour to Pelican Bay arrived a week late with no cargo, claiming they’d been attacked by pirates, taken aground and had everything stolen, just on the border.”

Franz nodded. He’d heard about that as well. “I’m sure you must have been advised that water trade is safer travelling up the River Nyl to Lonely Peak and then taken overland.” 

“Maybe, but it’s faster to go through Pelican Bay when the destinations are on the west side of the mountains, your Highness. We were assured that your navy was sufficient to keep the waters safe.”

“It is,” Franz promised. Though obviously it wasn’t. “But if you’re concerned, your best option is to write directly to my uncle Hans. He’s my parents’ military strategist; he’ll work something out.”

“I wrote to him and received a response from a Lord Fyrhawk.” 

Franz frowned. “Why is Dalton Fyrhawk answering my uncle’s letters?” The Fyrhawks were a wealthy family from the south of Kyaine. Their territory held most of the nation’s silver mines. 

“Stephan Fyrhawk, and as to that I couldn’t say, except that apparently Lord Hans has travelled east to deal with some upstart in the Roe Range.” It was clear that Elenora was hoping for some answers. 

“Right, of course.” Franz remembered hearing that his uncle was going to deal with that fellow in the east who’d crowned himself Sorcerer King. It felt like he ought to be back by now, though. “That’s nothing to be concerned about. In any case, if my mother has Stephan answering your missives, you can trust him to help sort out the piracy issue.” Franz hoped he’d made it sound like he believed that. Stephan Fyrhawk was a bit of an idiot, or at least he had been when Franz had last seen him. To be fair to him, he’d been thirteen at the time. 

“I hope so,” Elenora said with a small smile. “Your homeland is lovely, but I’d rather not spend six months there again.”

“You’d miss the worst of the winter, though,” Franz offered. 

“I rather like the snow, in fact.” 

“Everyone from the north is insane,” Franz muttered to himself, giving a quick look around the room. 

She laughed at that. “Perhaps so. Anyway, now that I’ve said my piece—what did you come to talk to me about, my prince?”

It was funny how many people could style Franz properly when they were alone who couldn’t in public. Franz looked at her for a moment, deciding. “I was wondering about your thoughts on Turner and Gloria’s engagement.” 

That earned him a look back. “They seem happy,” she said after a moment. “And it will be advantageous for both of them.” 

“She’ll get the stability of House Feestings and he’ll be cousin to the queen,” Franz said, as if he’d just thought of it. “I suppose that’s why Lord Orwell suggested it.”

“I heard it was Gloria’s suggestion,” Elenora told him, raising an eyebrow. 

“Really?” That wasn’t at all what Franz had heard. He looked out across the room, saw Gloria with Kieran. “I didn’t know that. Curious.”

“Anyway, I think it’s a good match. You’re friends with them, do you think they’re well suited for each other?” Elenora asked.

“I do, actually.” Franz didn’t. Something about their personalities didn’t strike him as meshing well. Gloria was very nice but in a much more intense way than Turner was nice. “I think they’ll be happy. And when Olivia inherits House Feestings, they’ll make good allies.”

Elenora nodded. “I think the same thing. I admit it’s lit a bit of a fire under me as well. I can’t seem to look at a young man without considering matches for Susanna,” she said it as a joke. Franz had a feeling it wasn’t. 

He smiled. “It’s a shrinking pool, these days.”

“It is. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve approached Mia to talk about Matthew and Susanna.”

Franz looked at her. “My lips are sealed.” That was an obvious match, their lands were close together and House Hardhold supplied a lot of labourers to the Suntower farms. It was too obvious for Franz’s liking, she was lying to see who he’d repeat it to. 

By Franz’s math, it would make more sense to marry Susanna to Hector. House Quate controlled a lot of iron mines, an underappreciated value. But he doubted Helena would go for it. At least at the moment—Franz had joked about Kieran and Kenneth, but he was pretty sure that Helena was aiming to have Hector and Gavin paired up if she could make it happen. 

Half the time Franz was certain nobles only had children so they could play games pairing them off when they were old enough. 

“Excellent. Well, I won’t be doing anything at the moment. I don’t want to clutter the marriage scene with Olivia, you and then Turner all engaged. Maybe once Olivia’s wedding has passed would be a good announcement time.”

“Good luck, then.” Franz smiled at her. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” 

“I appreciate the offer. Have a good evening, my prince.”

“And you as well, Lady Suntower.” 

She left him there, and Franz hid his frown, glancing at Helena. Elenora hadn’t had any idea what he’d been talking about when he’d brought up Orwell in conjunction with Turner and Gloria’s engagement. Hector had disappeared, so Franz headed for Helena, pretending that he was looking for his friend. 

“I’d like to know what information you have that says Elenora is up to anything,” Franz muttered to her when he was close enough, stance casual. 

“A large sum of money went out of her accounts not long ago, paid to brokers known to act as middlemen for assassins,” Helena said, smiling as if they were having a normal discussion. 

“I don’t think she’s in on it,” Franz insisted.

“Neither do I.” Helena nodded when Franz frowned at her. “There are two Suntowers at this party, Franz.” 

“You think…” Franz trailed off for a moment. “Why would Susanna…”

“Because she wants to be the queen?”

Franz shook his head. “Gavin would never agree to marry her, though.”

“He might, if…” Helena stopped talking at the appearance of Hector. Franz had been certain he wasn’t in the room a second ago. “Hector.”

“You two make life easier by being together. Susanna just told me that her mother has hired some assassins to attack the banquet.” Hector seemed out of breath, as if he’d just ran here. 

Helena looked at Franz, covering her surprise well. “We were just talking about that. The culprit is more likely to be Susanna herself.”

Hector scowled, shook his head. “No. I don’t think so—why would she tell me if it was her plan?”

“Because she’s framing her mother?” Franz asked. It was a uniquely awful thing to do, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. “I just finished talking to Elenora, and I don’t think she’s up to anything.”

“Well, I’ve known Susanna since I was ten, and she wasn’t lying. Mom.” He turned to Helena. “She wasn’t lying.”

A hard silence fell over the three of them for a moment. Franz watched the room as he thought, putting something together in his mind. “A scenario,” he said after a moment. 

“I’m listening.”

“Elenora Suntower is about to be framed for an assassination attempt on Gabrielle.” 

“Framed by whom?” Helena asked. 

“I don’t know. But it was elaborate enough that her own daughter was used as a way of placing guilt on her.” Franz thought this made the most sense, but there were pieces missing and he didn’t know what they were. 

“Her financial documentation…”

“Can be falsified. Her money can be spent without her noticing right away. I don’t always know what’s happening in my accounts unless it’s brought to my attention—and if the person who was meant to do that was the one who was playing with them, then I never would, would I?” Franz would, because he and Boey looked over his finances every month. 

For the first time since he’d known her, Helena looked annoyed as she looked around the room. Her eyes landed on Hector. “Our time to find out what is happening is shortening every minute.”

“I have people on stopping the assassins,” Franz promised. Hopefully he actually did. Owen was over there talking to Kieran and Gloria now. 

Helena nodded as if having expected that. “Still, let’s see what we can do from here, shall we?”

“I’ll start with Dominic,” Franz said, eyes falling on him talking to a servant near the corner of the room. He’d come back not that long ago. “I still haven’t gotten a good read on him.”

“Very well. I’ll have a chat with Lady Suntower myself, just to confirm your feeling. Hector.”

“I’ll keep on Susanna, see if she can tell me anything else. I sort of ran here after she told me before.” 

Helena blinked, but nodded. “Good. Let’s go to work. Franz, your page is patiently waiting for your attention.” 

Franz turned, saw Frederick standing there nervously, obviously waiting for him to finish with Helena and Hector. “I’m sure I’ll talk to you both later,” he said to them, parting with a nod and leaving them together. “Frederick, you look worried. What’s the matter?”

“A message just came for you, my prince. I was told it was urgent.” Frederick withdrew from his pocket a little roll of paper and held it out. 

Franz took it, curious. “From whom?” Everyone who would be sending Franz a message was here. 

“I don’t know, my prince,” Frederick said, worrying at his lip. “The messenger wouldn’t tell me who’d sent him. I told him I wouldn’t interrupt you if he couldn’t tell me, and he said it was a matter of safety. He…he made it sound like you were in danger, sir.”

“Is that so?” Franz looked down at the roll of paper, which had no seal in the wax holding it closed. He broke the wax with his thumb and unrolled it, looking down at the message. 

_Two arrows for two targets._

“Fuck,” Franz whispered, reading it. He didn’t recognize the handwriting He rolled the note back up, looking around the room for a moment. “Frederick.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Go give this to Boey. And then go tell Lady Helena that we’ve twice the work we thought.” He couldn’t be sure the letter or the person writing it was telling the truth, but he couldn’t risk assuming that they weren’t.

“You’ve twice the work you thought,” Frederick repeated. “I can do that, my prince.”

“Good. Go. And then head back to the rooms and stay there with Dragon until Boey and I come back, understood?” Even if he was someone’s spy, Franz didn’t need Fredrick getting hurt on top of everything else. 

“Yes, sir.” Frederick still sounded worried, but he hastened off to go look for Boey. 

Franz took a moment to close his eyes and breathe. Gavin was the most obvious second target, but that didn’t make sense if the intention was to frame Elenora on the pretense that she was planning to marry Susanna to Gavin. Maybe it was the king or queen themselves, but something about that didn’t click with Franz either. 

He couldn’t stand here by himself all night. Franz took a breath and headed for Dominic, who had ended his conversation and was now watching Franz approach. “Prince Franz. You look unusually tired tonight. The banquet is proving too much for you, is it?”

Not yet it wasn’t. “It’s been a lovely evening so far. I always forget how fun these banquets are.” Franz smiled at Dominic. He was wearing all white, which made him look washed out and pale. “You, on the other hand, look like you’d rather be anywhere else, Lord Dominic.”

“Am I that obvious?” Dominic asked, chuckling a little. “I confess I am not fond of social settings with so many people. I do far better in smaller groups.” 

“That seems somewhat out of character. Surely someone in your position only got here through socializing at events like this one?” Franz asked. A commoner—which Franz was certain Dominic had been—didn’t get titled Lord without making their way through dozens of banquets and parties. 

“Of course,” Dominic inclined his head with a wry smile. “But we must all do things we hate to get what we want, mustn’t we?” 

“I suppose we must, yes.” Franz sighed a little. “I admit I’m not as enamoured with such things as I should be either. I don’t mind them, but I’m always worried someone’s about to be murdered or otherwise have something hideous happen to them.”

Dominic quirked an eyebrow. “Rather more morbid than I’d expected from someone of your demeanour, your Highness.” 

Anyone versed enough in politics would have seen that comment for the warning that it was, but Dominic had pretended not to. “Maybe. I have been told that I tend towards paranoia when I’m tired—perhaps the banquet is taking more out of me than I’d expected.” 

“I’m sure nobody would blame you if you were to leave early.”

“At the banquet in celebration of my betrothed’s arrival in the city?” Franz smirked. “I feel I might be missed by a few key people, Lord Dominic. No, I shall stay and see how the rest of the evening plays out.” 

“Best of luck, then,” Dominic said. “I hope you have fun.” He turned his head at that, and Franz looked where he was to see Matthew Hardhold approaching them.

“Matthew.”

“Evening, Franz.” Matthew smiled apologetically at him. “I need Lord Dominic for a minute, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Franz gave Dominic an appraising look before turning away. “I think I’m finished with him for now. I’ll see you both later.”

“Until next time, your Highness,” Dominic said, as Franz turned and walked away. He knew something, Franz was certain of it. 

He got about ten steps before he was intercepted by a student mage, the brown-haired one with the sharp eyes and the cane. Peter, was his name. Franz remembered him. “Sorry to bother you, my prince” Peter said, glancing over at someone else. “Please do me a favour and talk to me for just a second.”

“I’d love to, Peter, but I’m afraid I’m very busy at the moment,” Franz said, making to move past him. 

“I know, you’re trying to stop an assassination.” Peter sighed. “Just thirty seconds until the High Presbyter gets distracted, please? I hate talking to him. Here, I’ll even walk with you until you get where you’re going.”

Franz blinked at Peter, who had indeed fallen into step behind him. Franz slowed his stride a little so Peter wouldn’t be outpaced. “How did you know about that?” he asked. 

“The assassination attempt?” Peter shrugged. “Just a guess. You’ve been getting progressively more agitated the more you talk to people, and almost everyone you talk to gets agitated after you talk to them and runs off to agitate someone else. Between you and Prince Gavin’s partner, the whole room is buzzing.”

Franz looked around the room. Peter wasn’t totally wrong. There were rather a lot of people who looked on edge. Some of the people in Gabrielle’s retinue were standing quite close to her, surveying the room, and someone seemed to have positioned her near the back wall, underneath the colonnade on the second floor that was hidden by heavy curtains. Gavin was talking seriously to the woman he’d come into the city with and two mages. The king and queen seemed unconcerned, but they were keeping an eye on both their children and, Franz saw, on him, as they talked to the knight commander and the archmage. Helena had Elenora locked into a vibrant conversation from which she clearly couldn’t escape, and seemed to have enlisted the aid of Kenneth Wrathwate to do it. Hector was attached to Susanna and Gloria and even Kieran, who had looked bothered at the beginning of the night and then been drunk to a worrying degree since, was talking the ear off a servant under a window, not letting her leave his sight in a way that seemed intentional. 

“You’re pretty observant.”

Peter shrugged. “I’ve always thought politics looked fun. They look even more fun up close. Who’s going to get assassinated?”

“Nobody, I hope.” Franz sighed. “Why don’t you want to talk to the High Presbyter? Obvious reasons aside, of course.”

Peter made a bit of a face. “He knows my parents, and he’s known me since I was six. And he hates my parents. And he can’t help but lecture about everything he thinks they’re wrong about and I’m not in the mood for that, especially since I don’t care overly about the messiah or the Leader.”

“Fair enough,” Franz said, keeping an eye on the High Presbyter as they moved through the room. It seemed he’d been distracted talking to a bearded mage. 

“I talked to the guy everyone seems worried about, you know,” Peter went on, gesturing towards the man with the knife as they walked. “He seems nervous.” 

“Well, he and his friends are about to attack the princess and someone else, so I can see why.” Franz wasn’t sure what to make of Peter having talked to the assassin. That seemed like a really bad idea.

“Who else?” 

“I don’t know yet.” Franz sighed. It was too slapdash, he thought, to be the king or queen. That was why it didn’t work for him—Helena had only recently seen the change of money indicating the assassination, and adding a secondary attack at the last minute spoke of a lesser target, not a greater one. A king had to be killed with much more planning if the intention was to get away with it. 

“That’s encouraging,” Peter muttered.

Franz chuckled. “Tell me about it. I’m focusing on stopping them and finding out who hired them while I try to figure out who the target is.” 

“Hm.” Peter sounded content with that. “Okay. I’ll leave you to it, then. Thanks for keeping me away from a sermon, my prince.”

“Peter?” Franz asked as he walked away. 

“Yes?”

“Do me a favour—stay near the assassin you spoke to. Not too near, but do…” Franz waved a hand vaguely. “You know, magic at him if he tries to kill someone?”

Peter smiled. “Sure thing. Good luck.”

“You too, be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’ll be fine, I’m the chosen one or something,” Peter said, waving at Franz as he left. 

Not sure what to make of that, Franz just elected to hope he knew what he was doing and joined Hector, Susanna and Gloria. “Evening, friends.”

“It is one of those,” Gloria said, tossing her curls out of her eyes a bit. “So, any word on when someone’s going to die?”

She was remarkably blasé about it. Franz glanced at Hector, who just shrugged. “I didn’t tell her.”

“I have my ways,” Gloria said mysteriously. 

Franz sighed. “Soon, I figure. Is it true that marrying Turner was your idea?”

Gloria frowned, fiddled with her ring. “No, Lord Feestings approached me about it. Who told you that?”

“Susanna’s mother,” Franz muttered, wondering why she’d have lied about that. Or maybe he should be wondering who had lied to her. 

“You really think someone’s trying to frame her?” Susanna demanded. She looked nervous, which Franz could hardly blame her for. 

“I think it makes more sense than the alternative, frankly. Give me a little bit more time, and I can…”

Whatever Franz could have done with a little bit more time wasn’t going to get done. A shout went up and all of them turned just in time to see two people fall through the curtain blocking the colonnade. They hit the ground with a hard crash and more shouts sounded. A lot of things happened at once then, and Franz only noticed most of them after he’d taken them in. 

The servant Kieran was talking to suddenly tried to dart past him, only to be drunk-tackled into a wall by Kieran and jumped on by several other servants. 

The woman Gavin had been talking to gave a shout and across the room another woman made a gesture with her hand, and four servants fainted on the spot. 

The man with the knife rushed not at Gabrielle but at Peter, turning and slashing at him. Peter hit the man with his cane and got a punch to the face in response before a spell from him tossed the man into the air and had him land on a table. 

Someone whipped out a knife and threw it at Gabrielle’s head, only for it to hover there in midair. The archmage was holding out his hand and the knife fell to the ground. Two guards fell on the attacker, who went down shouting that Lady Suntower had made him do it.

Helena and Kenneth kept Elenora from moving while Helena called over guards to grab her. 

“What the…” Hector was looking around.

“Fuck,” Franz muttered, trying to keep up. “Hector, go talk to your mother, don’t let them arrest her. I need to go talk to Gabrielle.” 

“I’m coming with you,” Susanna said, hurrying off with Hector. 

Gloria looked at Franz. “I’m assuming you orchestrated all of that?”

“Let’s assume that’s true,” Franz said, ducking his head at the sound of an explosion from above. The curtains bowed outwards for a moment, rippling in some wind from up there. “What the _fuck_?” 

“Swearing is the sign of a limited vocabulary, you know.”

Franz shook his head. “I’m feeling very limited at the moment.” 

He hastened to the little crowd of guards, who looked uncertain if they wanted to let him through. “Oh, move,” Gabrielle told them, pushing through to see Franz. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m going to go talk to the knight who fell through the window, I’ll talk to you in a minute.” 

Franz nodded, watched her hurry off. Gloria was talking to the king and queen, and Gavin approached him. “At least some of that was probably Owen,” he said, nodding. “It’s fine.” He sounded worried, though. 

“I believe you,” Franz said, though he was pretty sure Owen wasn’t explosion-proof. “I’m just glad everyone is okay.”

“Elenora Suntower was behind this?” Gavin asked, shaking his head. 

“No, I…” Franz broke off when he heard footsteps, looked over at the king and queen. “Your Highnesses.”

“Seems we’re to thank you for saving Gabrielle’s life, son.” Gerard said, patting Franz on the shoulder. “So thank you.”

“I wish I could have done it without causing such a scene,” Franz said, smiling. “And indeed, I wish I could take credit at all. But more people than I could count were helping that I didn’t even know about.”

“You have Owen to thank for most of that,” Gavin told him. “And you’re the one who put him on the trail. Being royal is all about taking credit for things people who work for you did.” 

“Maybe, but I think credit should go where it’s due. If I could figure out where it was due,” Franz said, looking around again. Boey was talking to Peter. He sighed, turned back to the king and queen. “Lady Elenora wasn’t behind this, your Highness. She’s being framed.”

“I see,” Gerard glanced over at her, being led away by some guards while Susanna followed in a rage. “And your proof?”

“I don’t…technically have any, as such,” Franz admitted, annoyed.

“A rather large claim to make without anything to back it up,” Georgina said with a small smile. 

“If all of that could have waited fifteen more minutes, I might have had something more concrete. I’m afraid the assassins weren’t very considerate of my schedule, your Highness.”

“Bastards,” Georgina said, shaking her head. 

“I’m going to go see what those knights are telling Gabrielle,” Gavin said, still sounding worried. “He came down from where I think Owen must be. I want to know what happened up there.”

“I’ll come with you, by your leave, your Highnesses.” Franz bowed and got a nod in return. He and Gavin broke apart from the king and queen and headed over there. “I’m sure Owen is okay,” he said quietly as they walked. 

“He’d better be,” Gavin said, expression tight. “Or I’ll kill him.”

“I’m just unlucky, your Highness,” the knight who had fallen from above was saying to Gabrielle as they got there. He was younger than Franz, blonde and tall for his age. 

Gavin interrupted whatever Gabrielle had been about to say in response to that. “Owen. Was Owen up there with you?” His worry was coming through more clearly now. Franz took Gabrielle’s hand and she let him, squeezing quickly to show she was okay. She had a strong grip. 

“Yes, your Highness. He was fine when I left. He and Ty had the situation under control.” The poor little knight looked awfully shaken from his fall. Talking to all of these royals probably wasn’t helping his constitution. The older knight beside him was just standing there at attention, letting the boy do all the talking. 

“That explosion didn’t sound ‘under control’ to me,” Gavin said, and Franz agreed. 

“I don’t know what that was, your Highness,” the young knight said. “I’m sorry.” 

Gavin was obviously not content with that, and Franz put his other hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “I’m sure Owen’s fine,” he said, glancing at the knights. “Thank you for your help. You may have saved my betrothed’s life.”

The knight saluted. “Just doing my duty, sir.” 

Franz could hear footsteps and he and Gabrielle moved a little, allowing the king and queen access to the conversation as well. Both knights knelt. 

“That was quite a fall you took, young man,” Gerard said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not hurt, your Highness.” 

“Good, that’s good.” Gerard sounded honestly relieved to hear that. The knight commander was with them. “What’s your name?”

“Edwin, your Highness.”

Gerard nodded. “Please stand up, Edwin.” Edwin did, looking terrified. He really ought not to be so scared of the king. He was just a man with a fancy hat, really. “You saved my daughter’s life. I commend your bravery.” 

“I didn’t do anything praiseworthy, your Highness. Just my duty, and I had a lot of help.” The way he said that was so familiar to what Franz was feeling that he smiled. 

“Still, your effort is appreciated.” Gerard smiled. “You pushing her down here seems to have made the other attackers move early, which led to their capture. Fortunately, nobody seems to have been badly hurt. I didn’t think it was too much to ask for a banquet with no assassination attempts,” he added with a sigh. 

“Oh, don’t say that like it’s a usual occurrence,” Georgina said, shushing him. “Nobody’s tried to assassinate us in years.” Franz had a feeling that Edwin wouldn’t be able to tell they were joking. 

“I wonder if Sir Richard would tell us that, or if it’s just that nobody’s been thwarted so publicly in years.” 

That was a good question, Franz thought. 

“I train my knights in competence, sir,” the knight commander insisted. “Not sneaking. As you clearly see.” Normally sneaking was left to the nobles, Franz figured. But he hadn’t managed that.

It was his first assassination thwarting. He’d get better at it.

“Yes, I do. Thank you again, Edwin.” The king’s attention was suddenly drawn to the doors. “Ah, Gavin. Your suitor is here. I have a feeling he knows what happened after Edwin’s departure from the room.” There was a clear sense of dismissal in his voice.

“I shall want a full report from you later, Edwin,” the knight commander told them, before they left. “But first we must conduct a search of the castle to make sure there are no more assassins. I want to know how they got in.” A fair enough question. Franz wanted to know how they’d gotten in too, even if they had help. 

“Yes, sir.” The older knight said, and with a salute, he led Edwin away. 

Franz sighed, turned to Gabrielle. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had hoped to deal with all of this a lot more quietly.” Beside them, Gavin was watching Owen approach with another knight, shifting from foot to foot in his effort to maintain decorum. 

“It’s fine, but next time just tell me about it in the first place. I shouldn’t have had to hear about it at a remove of three people,” Gabrielle said, tone chiding. 

Franz looked at Gavin, who didn’t look abashed. “You’re right. Next time I’ll tell you.”

“Good. At least I know that next time I can trust you to deal with it.”

“I strive to be useful to you in all things,” Franz told her. 

“Oh look, Gerard. He’s like you.” Georgina joked.

“Mother,” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. Her attention caught something in the room. “You should go,” she said to Franz. “I’m sure you’ve got things to wrap up from this little operation and Boey is waiting for you.”

Franz glanced over, saw that she was right. “I’ll be back shortly,” he promised, taking his leave from them and heading that way. 

On the way, he passed by Owen just before he reached Gabrielle’s family. He patted Owen on the shoulder and said, “Rather less subtle than I’d hoped.” He hadn’t been counting on everything ending with a literal explosion. Hopefully someone knew what had happened up there, because Franz wanted answers. 

“I don’t do subtle,” Owen told him quietly. “Nobody’s dead.”

Franz sighed. “That they’re not,” he admitted. He couldn’t well complain about the methods when he hadn’t been the one holding the sword. “Thank you, Owen.”

“Anytime, your Highness.” There was that tone again, the confident one that Franz was starting to think was his default mode of expression. Maybe all Franz had to do was unleash Owen on unsuspecting assassins whenever they showed up and everything would be fine. 

Franz sighed as Owen left and Boey rejoined him. “How’s Peter?”

“He’s fine,” Boey said, looking over at the huddle of mages on the other side of the room. Peter was with Isaac and the other boy, Nicholas. An old woman was holding Isaac’s hands, which were clearly bleeding. “The assassin turned and went right for him, Franz.”

Franz nodded. He’d seen that. “Do you think he was the second target?”

“He is the chosen one.”

“Or something,” Franz agreed. He supposed it made sense, in its way. He sighed. “This was a disaster.”

“No, it wasn’t. All the assassins are in irons and nobody we like died.”

“We don’t know who hired any of them, though. And Elenora was framed, I’m sure of it.”

Boey nodded slowly. “Well, it’s not like they’re going to execute her tonight. Or at all, probably. There will be time to prove it in the next few weeks.”

“I’m certain Dominic knew something.”

“I’ll work on him. I wouldn’t be surprised.” Boey paused. “What about Helena?”

Franz frowned at him, thinking on it. “I hadn’t considered her as a suspect.”

“You should.” Boey shrugged. “Not because she did anything suspicious. Just because she was ideally positioned to be behind it all and not have anyone notice.” 

_Shit._ “I guess you’re right. That old maxim of trusting nobody is surprisingly hard to follow sometimes.”

Boey smiled at him. “Not nobody, Franz. Just most people.”

“Right,” Franz nodded. “Just most people. Thanks for all your help. And I hope you know the details of everything that I had no idea was happening, because I’m very confused about a lot of things.”

“I’ll fill you in. Looks like Kieran was put on the trail of some fake servants and Owen’s friends helped apprehend them. Gavin and Owen are nearly as competent as you and I are.” 

“That’s concerning. I hope they never decide to take over the world.” Or the kingdom, which was perhaps more reasonable. 

“I think we’re fine.”

“Yeah,” Franz nodded, took Boey’s hand briefly. “I think we’re fine too, Boey.”

“That’s not what I meant, you sap.”

“But it’s what I meant.”

Boey smiled at him, just for a second. “Let’s go clean this mess up so we can go to bed.”

“Finally,” Franz said, looking around at the room, at the aftermath. “A plan I can get behind.”


	21. At a Dead End, It’s Good to Take a Break

“Kenneth Wrathwate supplied the banquet with extra servants, and it was among those servants that most of the assassins ended up hiding,” Franz said, looking down at the table where he’d set his list of names. There were so many lines going between them all that he wasn’t sure it was useful anymore. “Even he wouldn’t be stupid enough to hire assassins and have them scattered among his own people.”

“But whoever did hire them would have had to know that,” Boey countered, tapping a pen against the table. “Did they do it knowing nobody would look at him? Or was it just convenient that it was his house that offered the servants?”

“He offered them ages ago,” Franz muttered, looking around the table for the scrap of paper he’d tried to write a timeline out on. “Frederick, where’s my…”

“Here, sir.” Frederick was sitting in the other chair, and he leaned forward and held out the paper. It was just as much a mess as anything else. 

Franz took it with a nod, consulted it. “A month ago, he agreed to do it. My question is whether the assassins were already prepared to infiltrate his people at that point or if it was later.”

Boey looked at Franz. “You think he was in on it?”

“I do.” Franz scowled. “Nobody can be that much of a buffoon. I don’t think he was the mastermind—just that he knew.”

“Hm.” Boey made a face. “I think you’re wrong.”

“Prove it to me, then,” Franz shook his head, leaned back in his chair.

“I can’t. But I also can’t prove that Elenora Suntower was framed.”

“Fair enough, but she was.” Franz put a hand over his eyes for a minute. They’d been at this for a while now. 

“If she was, Susanna is the only candidate who makes sense.”

“I know, and that’s suspicious,” Franz said. “Nobody intelligent would leave themselves as the obvious suspect.”

“I do think you need to consider the possibility that not everyone plans at a fifty-step remove. Some people are straightforward.”

Franz chose to ignore that. Straightforward people were boring. “I think we should be looking at Dominic harder than we are.” Franz let the chair fall back into place. “I’m certain he knew something.”

“You’re probably right, but are you going to go up to him and just ask? He’s not going to admit to anything and he’s too smart to let anything slip by accident,” Boey said.

“I don’t think so. It was obvious from talking to him at the banquet that he knew something. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is, he’ll have a flaw somewhere. But honestly I don’t think he’s the mastermind anyway.”

“But he’s in on it—Franz, you’re constructed a scenario in which half the court is involved in this conspiracy now. If that many people were in on it, Gabrielle would have been dead ages ago.”

“I know.” Franz sighed, put his head in his hands. “Frederick, could you go have them bring us lunch? I know it’s early but I’m starving from eating breakfast so early. And I’m betting you both are too.”

“Of course, my prince.” Frederick stood, pushed his chair back in. “I’ll be back shortly.” He patted Dragon on the head and padded out of the room, clicking the door shut behind him. 

Franz watched the door for a minute after he’d left. “Do you think he’s buying it?”

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t be.” Boey stood from the table. 

“I don’t like lying to him,” Franz said with a sigh.

“And I don’t like that he’s spying on us. We’re not lying to him, Franz. We’re just saying things that aren’t true in front of him. It’s not our fault if he decides to repeat them to someone.” Boey shrugged and wandered a few steps. 

“I think if we told him we knew he was a spy he’d tell us who he worked for.” Franz wasn’t sure what made him think that. He knew that it was the job of a servant to pretend to like his master, and the job of a spy to lie to people, and Frederick was likely doing both. But he really thought that Frederick would rather work for Franz than whoever he was working for. 

“He might. And then he might die mysteriously.” 

“I know, I know.” Being a spy was dangerous for more than one reason and if Frederick were compromised, his employer could decide that it was easier to just cut losses and Frederick’s throat at the same time. “I shouldn’t have given him that room.” 

“Probably not. But you didn’t have a plausible excuse not to any longer,” Boey said. Since the secret about him and Boey was out, at least to Gabrielle, Frederick, and presumably Frederick’s employer, Franz had given him the second bedroom in his apartments here, which had ostensibly been Boey’s. But that meant that Fredrick was in here with them all the time, which made knowing to whom he was reporting all the more important.

Hearing where the misinformation they were feeding him was repeated would be a good way to ferret out their secondhand eavesdropper. Given that they were talking about who they suspected of attempting an assassination of the crown princess, Franz figured it was important enough that it would come out sooner rather than later. 

Hopefully before Elenora Suntower was executed for something she hadn’t done. 

Franz chuckled for a moment. “Can you imagine? Kenneth Wrathwate within a thousand miles of this?”

“Definitely keeping up your persona of not being very smart,” Boey said with a smile. “Though I do caution you to be suspicious of him just like everyone else.”

“I know, I know. I drew a little too much attention at the banquet. May have to give up on being the dumb southern prince soon.”

“After we’ve exposed all this, it would be a good idea,” Boey nodded. “I think you should spend some time with Kieran when you can. You haven’t in a while and it would make sense with the story you’re putting out.”

“Okay,” Franz nodded. “I haven’t seen him lately. He seemed bothered by something at the banquet, don’t you think?”

“Aside from the fact that his father’s servants were trying to kill his friend?” Boey nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“He was drinking a lot even before he knew about that.”

“He might just like drinking.”

“He might. About the conspiracy that takes up half the court.”

“I know you don’t really think that.”

“But you were right, even if you were acting. It doesn’t make sense, the number of people who seem to be involved. I’m wondering…” Franz paused, collecting his thoughts. “Gabrielle and Peter were such different targets that I’m starting to wonder if it honestly was two separate attempts that just happened to have the same venue.” 

Boey leaned against the sofa, closing his eyes as he thought. “It’s improbable.”

“But not impossible.”

“No, it’s not impossible,” Boey admitted. “And in some ways it makes more sense. The assassins who were targeting Gabrielle also admitted that they’d been planning to kill a few other people as cover, but none of them were Peter or his friends.” 

“And the ones who were targeting the chosen one had no idea that the princess was in danger,” Franz added with a nod. “At least according to them.”

“Not to say that they couldn’t still have been hired by the same person, but who’d risk their two killers would get in each other’s way like that? They could easily have tried to use the same room up there and killed each other.”

“It’s comforting to know we weren’t the only ones running on pure luck,” Franz muttered. “You still think Helena was involved?”

“No, but I still think it’s possible. I also think we have to look at the Hardholds. Why did Matthew need Dominic right before the attack?”

Franz nodded. He’d been wondering that too. “Okay.” He wasn’t sure what he thought of the Helena situation, honestly. “I really do like Hector, you know.”

“So do I,” Boey said, smiling. “He understands.”

“I hope so.” Franz sighed, gathered up all their papers into a neat pile. Anyone who came in was going to think he was crazy. “I have supper with Gabrielle tonight, right? Or is that tomorrow?”

“It’s both, but Gavin’s going to be there tomorrow.” 

“Right.” Franz nodded. “I’m so fucking tired, Boey.”

“And you’re not even married to her yet.”

Franz laughed. “No kidding.” He looked up, saw how tired Boey looked. “We’re taking a break. You need it too. Let’s just relax for the rest of the day, okay?”

“We have shit to do, Franz,” Boey gave him a tired smile. “You rest. I’ll keep at it.”

“No, you’re going to rest. We’ll do something that we don’t to stage a huge performance for Fredrick over.” Franz stood, went over and took Boey in his arms. “I’m not going to let you work yourself to death while I nap.”

Boey chuckled. “Okay, fine. We’ll rest.”

A knock at the door, and Frederick came back in, not bearing lunch. “A message for you, sir.”

“Thank you,” Franz sighed, went to take the paper from his hand. “Did you go to the kitchen?”

“Yes, sir. Lunch will be up shortly. It’s a meat stew.”

“Excellent.” Franz patted Frederick on the shoulder. “Boey and I have just decided to take a break for the rest of the afternoon. We’ll do something fun instead of this.” 

“Yes, sir.” Frederick smiled. “You do both look tired. If you don’t mind me saying.”

Franz nodded, holding back a laugh. “I’m sure. So let’s eat lunch and maybe go outside, shall we?”

“It’s raining, sir.”

Franz blinked, glanced at the window. It was indeed pouring rain. “We’ll stay inside, I think.”

“You’re a wimp,” Boey told him.

“Whatever.” Franz looked down at the rolled-up note, unrolled it. 

_Could we talk? I’m worried about Turner. ---Olivia._

Franz sighed. Once upon a time, Kieran had told him that he and his friends didn’t play politics against one another. “I wonder if he was lying or if he was just being hopelessly naïve.” 

“Sorry, sir?”

“It’s nothing, Frederick.” Franz put the note on his pile of papers. He’d answer her this evening. “Come, what do you find fun? Boey and I need suggestions.”


	22. The Thing About Underestimating Your Enemy Is that You Don’t Know When You’re Doing It

“Gloria’s manipulating Turner.” 

Franz looked at Olivia, carefully considering. Ostensibly they were having lunch to talk about weddings, and it had taken her until now to suddenly drop the point of their little meeting into the conversation. That wasn’t quite what Franz had expected. “What makes you think that?”

Olivia shook her head, sipped at her tea. “She’s got him convinced that the marriage is going to be advantageous for him. I don’t think he realizes that it’s only advantageous for her.” 

“Having a royal connection is good for Turner,” Franz countered, though he thought Olivia was right. “And it’s good for your family.”

“Gabrielle’s going to be my maid of honour in a few weeks,” Olivia said, waving a hand. Franz wondered if he’d ever get to meet her fiancé. Apparently he wasn’t in the capital at the moment. “The family doesn’t need a royal connection. But being the queen’s cousin doesn’t give Gloria any lands or status. Marrying my brother does.”

“Being the wife of the younger brother of the head of the house gives her status?” Franz asked. “How is she manipulating Turner? He clearly didn’t want to marry her until just recently.” 

“I think she’s got him convinced it’s for the best, for him and for us as a family. I don’t know what she pulled, but she’s using him and I don’t like it.”

Franz watched her for a second, and nodded. “I heard that it was your grandfather who organized the marriage, not her.”

Olivia nodded back. “He says Gloria approached him.”

“That’s not what Gloria says.”

“You’ve already talked to her about this?” Olivia asked with a frown. 

“It came up while I was looking into the Suntower situation.” Franz took a breath. “Someone’s lying.”

“Gloria.” Olivia narrowed her eyes. “You don’t believe me.” 

“I don’t agree. Not the same thing.” 

“Why would my grandfather lie?” Olivia didn’t sound as defensive as a person might if they were genuinely surprised to learn that a family member might be up to something. 

“Isn’t it natural for him to have ambitions for you two?” Franz asked, instead of saying why he thought Orwell would have lied.

“He’s a smarter man than that. If he were ambitious, marrying Turner to Gloria wouldn’t…” Olivia trailed off, and Franz could practically see her running succession math through her head. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered. 

“I know.” It didn’t. The whole plan—as far as Franz understood it—didn’t. 

Olivia fixed Franz with a look that told him clearly that she understood what he was getting at. “I don’t believe you.” 

“I’m not sure I do either, but it’s the best theory I have at the moment,” Franz said, leaning back a little in his chair. “And I have no real evidence except for a financial transaction.”

“Which, as you’ve already told us in regards to Lady Elenora, can be falsified,” Olivia pressed, leaning forward. “It doesn’t prove anything.”

“I know,” Franz repeated. “It’s why it hasn’t been brought through any official channels yet.” 

“But it will be.”

“Assuming it’s true and assuming I can prove it, yes.” Franz nodded, and he gave Olivia a bit of a small smile. “I’m not on a witch hunt.”

“I should hope not, since those usually ended with the hunters turned into frogs.” 

Franz chuckled. If Olivia was making jokes, she wasn’t that upset. “I’m told I look good in green.”

Olivia nodded. “If it turns out my grandfather really is up to something with all of this, then Turner’s engagement to Gloria might be called off.” 

“It might be,” Franz agreed. “I can’t promise anything.” 

“Well, no.” Olivia sighed. “Where would the fun be in that? I hate this, I hate everything about this. But I’m not willing to let anything hurt my brother, including my grandfather, so I’m not taking any chances. If you uncover anything at all, I want to know about it.” 

“Understood,” Franz nodded. “It would be best if you didn’t say anything to Lord Orwell for the time being.”

“Obviously.” Olivia’s smile was a bit more pointed now. “Or to Turner, I know. This isn’t my first political power play, your Highness.”

Franz read her look, saw something familiar in it. What Boey would have called the ‘go jump off a bridge’ look. “When you tell Turner, just make sure he doesn’t do anything rash, please?”

Now Olivia openly smirked. “I’ve some experience managing my brother. Don’t worry. Speaking of which, he’s at the castle right now with Gloria. If you see him when you get back, tell him the cook is making grilled duck for dinner, will you?”

Franz nodded. “I shall assume that’s some sort of code you two have.”

“You may assume what you want. I wanted duck for dinner.” 

“A good choice,” Franz told her, standing. “On that note, maybe I ought to go back to the castle. Thank you very much for the lunch invitation.” 

“Anytime, Franz. Tell Gabrielle I said hello.” 

“I’ll do that. Good luck with the upcoming wedding.” Franz bowed a little, then retreated from the little dining room, thinking. Olivia’s help—and possibly Turner’s by association—would be valuable in figuring out what was going on with Lord Orwell. They might know who he was close to, especially if it was someone he’d been closer to lately. 

Plus Olivia’s suspicion of Gloria made him wonder if maybe she was more involved than Franz had made her out to be. Olivia knew Gloria better than he did, after all. 

Franz’s guard was waiting for him at the gates of the Feestings manor, and tailed Franz the whole walk back to the castle. 

When he had crossed through the castle gates and over the drawbridge, a heavy bell started ringing. Franz had never heard it, but he had a feeling he knew what it was. “That’s an alarm bell?” he asked his guard, though why he expected the man to know, he wasn’t sure. 

“Yes, my prince. Please proceed into the castle, sir.” The guard sounded worried, and Franz didn’t blame him. An alarm bell being rung likely meant a threat to the city. 

“Of course. I’m sure you know me well enough to know I’m not one to dally outside to get a good look at the danger,” Franz said with a smile as he headed for the castle proper. His mother had always told him that looking for danger was a good way to get an arrow in his eye. 

“No, sir. If I might say, sir, we all appreciate the fact that you know why you have guards.”

Franz nodded. “Every time I start to feel too self-important, I remind myself of the number of people who’d happily see me dead. It does wonders for the ego and also makes sure I don’t do anything stupid like sneak away from you.”

That earned him a chuckle from the guard, and Franz let out a short breath once they were inside the castle. “I wonder what’s going on?” 

“I can find out for you, my prince,” the guard offered.

Franz nodded. “I’d appreciate that. Hopefully it’s just a false alarm. I’m going to look for Turner, and after that I’ll be in the apartments. If you find out before I get back, just deliver the message to Boey, would you?”

“Of course, my prince. Excuse me.” The guard bowed, then turned and headed off somewhere. 

With the ringing of the alarm bell as backdrop, Franz went in search of Turner. Not that he’d be able to leave the castle with this alarm going, but that in itself wasn’t a bad thing either. Franz was going to leave the telling of anything to Olivia, but he wanted to get a good sense of how Turner really was feeling about all of this, and if Gloria was there maybe he’d be able to get an idea of whether she really was in on manipulating him like Olivia thought. 

A servant directed Franz towards the sitting room the two of them had been using, and Franz headed there, the bells ringing all the while. The impression of danger made him want to go see Boey, to go somewhere safe, but Franz pushed that away. He was an adult, and the castle was a fortress. He wasn’t going to go hide under the covers because of some bells, and if anything, Boey would just laugh at him if he did. 

Franz was lost in thought and not paying attention, and was shocked out of it when someone bumped into him, a young man, ruddy faced, small nosed. “Excuse me,” he muttered, hurrying off down the hall. Franz blinked. He must have been a servant of some kind, but not a well trained one if he didn’t look where he was going or, apparently, notice when he’d collided with royalty. 

Fortunately, Franz wasn’t the type of prince who had people drawn and quartered for stupid things, but really, he ought to be more careful. 

Franz kept going, turning the last corner and approaching the door, taking just a second to listen, make sure he wasn’t interrupting a conversation. It didn’t seem like, not that he would have stopped if he were, so Franz knocked once. There was no answer, so he opened the door, stepped into the room. 

Saw Turner. Laying there on the floor, in a spreading pool of blood. 

Two things flashed in Franz’s mind at once. The man in the hallway. And fear that he was too late. “Turner!” Franz raced forward, knelt beside turner in the blood, put fingers to his neck to check his pulse. “Help, somebody help!” he shouted. He felt a pulse, but a weak one. “Turner, Turner.”

Turner’s eyes fluttered open, looked up at Franz. They were already hazy, already fading. The bells were still ringing. “Franz? Tell Olivia…want swan for dinner…”

Franz looked down at him, pressing his hands to the wounds in Turner’s chest, trying futilely to stop the bleeding. “Okay. I’ll tell her.”

“Hurts…”

“I know. I know it does, Turner.” There were too many wounds. He’d been stabbed at least three or four times. And the blood coming out of his mouth suggested that he was bleeding internally too. Franz shouted for help again.

“Going to die…”

Tears rolled down Franz’s face as Turner stared up at the ceiling. He bit back a sob. “Yeah,” he said. “You are.” 

Turner nodded weakly, a motion that faded as he head lolled to one side. “Tell Olly…love her…” 

“I will,” Franz promised, suppressing another sob. “I will, Turner.”

Turner didn’t hear him. 

“Dammit!” Franz shouted, as Turner left. “Goddammit!” 

He hadn’t expected this. Here he’d thought he was so fucking smart, on top of whatever was going on. This hadn’t occurred to him, not once. That Turner was an expendable part of the plan hadn’t occurred to him. “Dammit…I’m sorry, Turner…”

Franz heard footsteps, and a scream. He didn’t look up, not leaving Turner alone, not until the guard was summoned, and not until they came in and dragged him away, not gently escorting him to his apartments. 

Turner’s blood was on Franz’s hands. The bells were still ringing. Nothing made sense.


	23. In Times of Crisis, It’s Important to Clarify Who’s on Your Side

They’d confined Franz to his apartments. Not that they’d put it that way, but for two days now he’d been told it wasn’t safe to leave, that he should stay in here for his own protection. When Franz had reminded them that someone had been murdered in a secure room in this very castle, he was given flat looks and asked to remain in his apartments. 

“We’re all being watched,” Alvin said to him, sitting at the little table in Franz’s main room. At least his people were allowed to come and go at will—Franz’s status was good for something. Nobody could reasonably expect a prince to be held without access to his servants, especially when he hadn’t been charged with anything. “The castle guard aren’t openly limiting our movements, but it’s clear that they’ve been told to keep an eye on us.”

“Surely they don’t think we’re responsible for a dragon attack?” Franz asked, patting his own Dragon on the head. Apparently he had helped Owen fight off the dragon that had attacked the castle right around the time Turner had been killed—that was why they’d been ringing the bells. 

Franz had heard that Owen had pulled Dragon away from a blast of fire at the last minute before killing the thing. He’d have to repay Owen somehow. 

“I think the perception is we took advantage, sir.” Alvin was about ten years older than Franz, a little pale and short. He didn’t look like guard material, nevermind the captain of a guard. But Franz had handpicked him for the captaincy. “We used the dragon as cover to attack Lord Turner.”

Franz sighed, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, and surely they know that. I had no reason to kill Turner.”

“Well, _I_ know that, sir.” 

“Of course.” Franz smiled joylessly. “Thank you for the report. Tell your people not to do anything to attract the castle guards’ attention. But at the same time, I’d like you to keep making their lives difficult on the small matter of my imprisonment under their care.”

Alvin got out of his chair and knelt. “Yes, my prince. Shall I write Hawk’s Roost for reinforcements?”

Franz shook his head, having expected that one. “Not yet. If this goes on much longer, I shall write my mother and have her remind Gerard that all alliances are temporary.” 

It wouldn’t come to that, Franz was sure. Nobody wanted a war between Dolovai and Kyaine. 

“Of course, my prince. By your leave.” Franz nodded, and Alvin retreated from the room, the door closing silently behind him. 

“They’re watching all your servants too,” Boey said from the sofa. “Including me. Everyone’s whispering about the fact that you were there when Turner died.” 

“Because I’m so stupid as to go in there myself when I’ve hired a killer, am I?” Franz sighed, exasperated. 

“I guess so. The killer took his knife with him, so there’s no suspicion that you personally did the killing.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better. I want to know where these accusations are coming from.”

“A couple of places,” Boey said, looking uncomfortable. “House Feestings is being quiet, but there are rumours that Olivia blames you. And Susanna’s been wondering out loud whether her mother’s imprisonment and Turner’s murder are connected. And…” 

Boey didn’t normally hesitate. Franz frowned. “And what, Boey? My friend just died, I think I can handle some uncomfortable information.”

Boey sighed. “Kieran is backing Susanna up. It seems like he’s telling people that you were asking him questions about Turner for the last few weeks.” 

Franz felt his gut clench a little, and he looked away. “That’s not true.”

“That doesn’t matter. And it especially doesn’t matter when he’s been spending a lot of time with Hector.”

_Fuck._ Franz closed his eyes, needing a moment to think. “Okay. We need to…”

A quiet knock at the door, and it opened to admit Frederick, who looked nervous. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting, my prince…”

Franz looked at him, then looked at Boey, who nodded. “You are,” Franz told him. “Frederick. I’m afraid that I’m going to have to release you from my service effective immediately.”

“Sir?” Frederick went white, looking around the room nervously. 

“It’s nothing to do with your work, you’ve been excellent. I will ask you to tell people, however, that I was dissatisfied.”

“My prince…”

“That should protect you from any recrimination by your master. Simply tell him or her that I grew bored and decided I didn’t need you after all. Then you shouldn’t be blamed for it.” He smiled. “I have rather a lot to do right now, Frederick, and I’m afraid I no longer have time to worry about what information you do and don’t have.”

Franz watched Frederick’s face as he registered what Franz was saying and what it meant. It went from shock to fear to disbelief and back to fear again, and Frederick was shaking his head, backing up, hitting the door, watching Franz. “I…you knew?” he whispered.

Franz nodded, and Frederick shook his head even harder, the fear spreading. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He looked like he was going to cry. “Please don’t…”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Frederick,” Franz told him, wondering why Frederick would think he would. “And I’m not mad. This isn’t the first time I’ve been spied on, it’s part of being who I am.”

Frederick squeezed his eyes shut. “I…I didn’t want to. But my, my friend, he’s sick. And he, he told me he’d pay for the medicine, if I just…if I just told him what you were doing, he told me he’d pay for Silas’s medicine.” Frederick took a stuttering breath, trying to stop himself crying. “If I stop, if I stop watching you he won’t anymore, and Silas might die.”

Franz tried to keep his face impassive, but he knew it wasn’t working. He glanced at Boey, who just sighed and gave a nod. “Sit down, Frederick,” Franz said.

Moving tentatively, Frederick did. He looked wary, as if he thought Franz was going to hit him. Dragon sensed the boy’s distress and got up, rested his head on Frederick’s lap once he’d sat himself. “There is another way out of this.”

“Sir?” Frederick sniffed. 

“I can start paying for your friend’s medicine if your master stops. But before that, you could keep spying on me for a while longer.”

“I don’t understand,” Frederick said, looking at Franz carefully, glancing at Boey. 

“We would want you to keep taking information back to him,” Boey said, putting in his hands on the table. “But only the information we tell you to. Controlling what people know is half the battle when you’re playing at espionage.” 

Frederick seemed to be calming down now, and he was looking at Boey, clearly thinking as he patted Dragon’s head. “Because if you know what he knows, you can control him. And if I tell him things that are wrong, he’ll make mistakes.”

“That’s the idea. You’re very smart, you know.”

Frederick coloured a little, looked down at the table. 

“Frederick,” Franz said softly. “I need you to tell me who he is.”

“It’s…” Frederick bit his lip, and Franz could see him weighing everything in his head. If he told, that would be it. He’d be cutting ties with his old master, declaring allegiance to Franz. He’d be putting himself and his friend in danger. Espionage was dangerous for everyone involved. Frederick took a breath, looked back up at Franz. “It’s Lord Dominic.”

Franz nodded, somehow not surprised. “Okay.” He should have been keeping a closer eye on Dominic. “When do you have to report to him next?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Franz repeated. “We’ll figure out what you’re going to tell him later. In the meantime, I’m being framed for Turner’s murder, and Boey and I are trying to figure out why. You can help.”

“I can?”

“Of course you can,” Boey told him, smiling. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that servants can get away with a lot if they want to.”

Boey got Frederick up to speed, and Franz let himself sigh internally in relief. That could have gone a lot worse. At least one thing had worked out, he supposed. And it let them have this, this space, as theirs, one where they could do what they needed to do while the rest of the world plotted against them.


	24. The Unfortunate Thing about Being a Politician Is that Everything Is Political

A knock at the door interrupted Franz’s lunch. He’d overslept, mostly because of a nightmare about Turner. 

Franz looked up at the door, which Frederick got up to answer. 

He moved aside for Gabrielle, who strode into the room in her formal armour over black. She frowned at Franz. “You’re not ready.”

“Ready for what?” This was the first he’d seen of her since Turner’s murder. 

“For the funeral.”

Franz looked at her, then looked over at Boey, who looked just as confused. “I’m pretty sure I’m not invited to the funeral, what with half the court assuming I’m the one who killed Turner.”

“Did you?”

Gabrielle’s gaze on him was heavy, and Franz glared. “Of course not.”

“Then why shouldn’t you go? He was your friend too.”

“I’m under lock and key here,” Franz told her gesturing to the door. “I haven’t been allowed to leave the rooms since the murder.”

“Is that why you’ve missed dinner every day?” Gabrielle’s brief smile faded. She looked exhausted. “I shouldn’t be flippant, sorry. I haven’t had time to come see you with everything that happened. I should have made the time.”

“It’s fine.” Franz stood, pushing the last of his lunch away. “You’re busy. Your brother almost died.”

Gabrielle nodded. “Among other things. And I let my betrothed be falsely accused of murder. It’s not the sort of thing you let fall through the cracks.”

Franz managed a small smile of his own. “My mother would say it was my own fault for letting myself be put in a position where false accusations of murder were possible. I don’t want to politicize Turner’s funeral and I’m sure Olivia doesn’t want me there.”

“She doesn’t,” Gabrielle admitted. “Did you know she entered knight training at the same time as I did, to protect Turner? She decided not to go through with it in the end, but still.”

“She was devoted to him.” Franz shook his head. “I don’t want to intrude on her grief.” It wasn’t right.

“And I don’t want the impression that you’re a murderer being spread any farther,” Gabrielle insisted. “Olivia is my best friend. I’ll handle her.”

Franz wanted to argue further, but he could see that Gabrielle was determined. He nodded. “Give me a few minutes, then.” He turned and went into his bedroom, Boey following him. 

“This is a bad idea,” Franz muttered as they dressed.

“No, I think Gabrielle’s right.”

Franz nodded. “I didn’t say she was wrong. Just that it’s a bad idea.”

“Yeah.” 

Boey finished dressing first and when he finished, he left Franz to his own devices and left. Franz continued dressing in black in silence, still wondering if this was a good idea. He saw the merit in what Gabrielle was saying, though, and with another sigh, he checked to make sure his clothes were straight before heading back out into the sitting room, where Gabrielle was at the table, slowly petting Dragon’s head. Boey and Frederick were nowhere to be seen. 

“You should eat,” Gabrielle told him, pointing at the remains of Franz’s lunch. “Funerals are long.”

“I know.” Franz sat beside her, started on the last of his food. 

“We have to go to one tomorrow as well.”

Franz looked up, a small shock running through him. “Whose?” He was sure lots of people had died in the dragon attack, but for there to be another funeral it would have had to be someone important. 

“The High Presbyter. His heart gave out during the attack. He held on for a day, but passed away the morning after.” 

Franz wished that he didn’t feel relief at that. It shouldn’t be a relief that the High Presbyter had died, he had been a human being too and Franz should care about him. But at least it hadn’t been one of his friends. “Okay. They won’t have chosen a new one yet. One of his people is overseeing Turner’s funeral?” It took weeks for the church to select a High Presbyter, as Franz understood it. There was a whole process. 

Gabrielle nodded. “A priest named Jeremy. His presumed successor. Not that it matters at the moment, of course.”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?” 

Franz looked up at Gabrielle, pausing in forcing food into his mouth. He swallowed. “No. Are you?”

“No.”

Nodding, Franz reached out and took her hand. “We will be someday.”

“I hope so.” 

Boey and Frederick came out of the smaller room them, and Frederick was dressed in black as well. Franz nodded. He wasn’t about to leave Frederick here in the rooms where he’d be vulnerable. As a servant, he’d likely stay out with the carriage during the service, but that was fine. Franz wondered if Dominic would find a way to talk to him. They’d worked out a little story for Frederick to tell. “Ready?” They both nodded. “Let’s go.”

The guards at the door looked for just a second like they wanted to stop Franz leaving, but a look from Gabrielle shut them up, and she led them through the castle and to the carriages that were waiting outside. Boey smiled at Franz, and led Frederick away to one of the smaller carriages that carried their retinue, and the doors were held open for a few minutes after they climbed in. “If Gavin’s late…” Gabrielle muttered, though there was no heat behind it.

“Is it true that Owen killed the dragon that attacked the castle?” Franz asked. 

“Yes, and now my parents are knighting him.” Gabrielle nodded. “Did you hear about the shadows that attacked the city while the dragon was here?”

“Just rumours.” Rumours that didn’t make much sense.

“The whole story is pretty much that shadows—wraiths—attacked the order of knights in a few different places in the city while the dragon was here. They were defeated by Edwin—you remember him, from the banquet?”

The young knight who’d fallen from the window. Franz nodded. “He’s very busy these days.” 

“I’m thinking of having him put on Gavin’s retinue. Don’t say anything about that, because I haven’t told Gavin about it yet. But he needs one, clearly.”

“Clearly,” Franz agreed. “As reliable as Owen is, he can’t shoulder the burden of protecting Gavin constantly.” As much as he knew both of them would disagree. 

“It makes the rest of us look bad,” Gabrielle said. “Anyway. It helps me to talk about details instead of thinking.”

That was the most emotional thing he thought Gabrielle had said all day. “I understand. I spin conspiracy theories instead of thinking.”

“And who’s at the centre of your current theory?”

Franz didn’t get to answer before the guards outside snapped to attention and he looked out to see Gavin and Owen approaching, hand in hand. “Sorry,” Gavin muttered as they climbed in. 

“You’re not late. I had us arrange to leave early because I knew you would be,” Gabrielle told him. Gavin smiled at her, but it was just as sad as all of their smiles today. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Franz told Gavin.

“Likewise. I know you didn’t kill Turner.”

Franz nodded. The cart started moving, and he looked out the window as they did, catching sight of some of the damage to the castle. Part of the outer wall was collapsed and most of the western tower as well, and a lot of rubble scattered the grounds. As they crossed the drawbridge, it looked like the water level in the moat had fallen, exposing the spikes at the bottom.

He turned his attention to Owen now, who was still holding Gavin’s hand. “I know it was low on your list of priorities, but you saved my dog.”

Owen looked confused for a second, but then he nodded. “He helped me fight the dragon as if it wasn’t a million times his size. He’s a good dog.”

“Yes, he is.” Franz wasn’t at all surprised that Dragon had gone to help.

It was a short ride to the cathedral, where at least there was some quiet chatter to break up the silence. Franz had always thought that funerals should be a little noisier. People talking about the person who’d died, instead of whispering to each other like they were worried the angel of death would come for them next. 

There were a lot of nobles and other people arrayed outside, slowly filtering into the First Church of the Blessed. From here, Franz could see the collapsed tower in the palace, which looked a lot worse than it did up close. He took Gabrielle by the hand and helped her out of the carriage, sending a glance at Boey and Frederick before taking Gabrielle up the stairs with Gavin and Owen behind them. 

Franz slowed a little as they neared the doors, where Olivia and Lord Orwell were standing, accepting condolences on the way in. Gloria was with them. He swallowed a little as they joined the line of people going into the cathedral, holding Gabrielle’s hand. He wasn’t sure which of them he was hoping to comfort. 

He looked around as they waited, wondering who he’d see talking. But it wasn’t to be today; nobody he was interested in was around except for Hector, who was with Helena, and Kieran and Lord Kenneth. None of them would catch his eye. The king and queen would be arriving presently, so they wouldn’t have to wait in line. 

Olivia’s eyes fixed on Franz when they reached the head of the line, and they were hard. “What are you doing here?”

“Paying last respects to my friend.”

“No.” Olivia shook her head slowly. “No.”

“Olly.”

“He murdered Turner, Gabi.” The finality with which Olivia said that was striking to Franz. That wasn’t a rumour or a whisper or a suspicion. Olivia was absolutely certain of that. Beside her, Gloria’s eyes were rimmed with red, and she too had a hard gaze fixed on Franz. 

“No, he didn’t. And you know that.”

“Don’t tell me what I know. He was asking questions about Turner, and then Turner died.” Olivia choked up a little at that, and visibly tried to get herself under control. 

Gloria was standing like she wanted to offer comfort to Olivia, but she didn’t. “Even if he didn’t,” she said, voice tinged with doubt, “he shouldn’t have come. You knew what effect it would have, Gabrielle.”

Franz was watching Orwell. He’d survived his wife, his children and now his grandson. He looked on the verge of breaking down, behind that veneer of noble calm.

“If he didn’t kill Turner, then prove it,” Olivia spat. “Show me some proof that he’s innocent.”

“I’m not responsible for Turner’s death,” Franz said to her, gently. Then he turned to Orwell. “You know that, don’t you, Lord Feestings?”

It wasn’t a very nice thing to do. But Franz was done playing nice with these people. 

Orwell’s face contorted for just a moment, enough to let Franz know that his meaning had been taken. And slowly, shakily, he nodded. “Yes, I do,” he rasped. “Please, come in.”

“Grandfather!” Olivia rounded on Lord Feestings, disbelief plain in her eyes. 

“You have my deepest condolences,” Franz told them. “All three of you. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Olivia shot him a venomous look, but he and Gabrielle were allowed to enter the cathedral unhindered and proceed down the centre aisle to the front, where Turner’s coffin was laying, open. 

“That wasn’t the answer I was expecting to my question of who was at the centre,” Gabrielle muttered as they walked. 

“It wasn’t the answer to the question. Helena’s going to be mad at me.” But as far as he could tell, she was happily letting him take the blame for this, so too goddamn bad for her. Franz had to make sure he wasn’t arrested before he could worry about finding Orwell’s partner.

“You owe me an explanation.” Gabrielle sounded a bit dangerous now.

“After the funeral,” Franz said, as they drew up to the coffin. Turner’s body had been preserved with oils and perfumes to make it look as close to alive as it could. Something else Franz didn’t understand. The dead were dead. “I’m so sorry, Turner. I’m so sorry.” The tears he hadn’t been shedding came now. “All I can promise is that I’ll find them, okay?”

“You were one of the only genuinely nice people I knew,” Gabrielle muttered. “I don’t…I don’t understand why it had to be you.” She was crying now too. 

Turner didn’t answer either of them. As they said their goodbyes to him, he remained silent.


	25. Bringing Secrets into the Open Is the Best Way to Kill Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story is confusing at times with all its characters and schemes going on, so I'm going to try and do a better job of keeping clear what's happening and who people are from here on out. That said, this chapter is a culmination of sorts for a lot of things that have been ongoing for a while now, so while I've tried to add in as many reminders as I organically can about what's going on, it may still suffer from that confusion. Going forward, though, I'm going to be more careful about keeping things clear (except when I don't want them to be), so thanks to everyone for your feedback and patience!

It was time for everything to come out in the open. 

Franz wasn’t naïve, he knew that secrets had a way of staying secret, and that one court session wasn’t going to expose the rotten core of the nobility. But at the very least, he hoped to clear his own name today. 

He stood on the dais beside Gabrielle, watching the milling nobles as they waited for Elenora Suntower to be brought into the throne room. “Is it true that your father is going to knight Owen after this?” he asked her. 

“Yes,” she nodded, glancing at Gavin, who looked impatient. “Should piss a few people off.”

“I should think so, yes.” There had to be more than a few nobles who’d thought to marry their children into the royal family by way of Gavin. Knighting Owen was a way of blessing his relationship with the prince, ending any potential future marriage alliances. “You’re going to have that guard set up for Gavin soon, yes?”

“Soon,” Gabrielle promised. “I’ll have them keep an eye on Owen too.” 

Franz nodded. The obvious solution to any problem posed by that a relationship between them, blessed by the king, was to kill Owen. 

“If the two of you are done conspiring over there,” Gerard said, smiling at them.

“They’re talking about me,” Gavin said, smiling. 

“Not everything is about you, Gavin,” Gabrielle said, rolling her eyes. 

The king cleared his throat. “In any case. It’s time we dealt with the small issue of murder. A crime that a rather alarming number of people in this court have been accused of attempting recently.” 

“And that one of them succeeded in carrying out,” Olivia spat. All the city’s important nobility were here for this, and she was standing beside her grandfather not far from the dais, arms crossed. She’d been watching Franz with open animosity since he’d arrived. 

Her brother had been killed. Franz understood. 

“Indeed,” the king said, nodding at the two of them. “We will proceed chronologically, I think. Bring in the Lady Suntower.”

All heads turned as the throne room doors were opened, and a moment later Elenora Suntower appeared, flanked by two guards. She seemed unhurt, and was dressed in clean clothes, not bound. She mostly looked annoyed. “Lady Suntower,” Gerard said to her. “You stand accused of the attempted assassination of my daughter, the Princess Gabrielle, at the banquet three weeks past. You answer to these accusations?”

“Innocent, your Majesty,” Elenora said, with an incline of her head. “I would never harm the princess.”

“Does anyone stand in Lady Suntower’s defence?” Gerard asked. 

“I do.” Franz said, drawing a lot of attention at himself. 

Olivia made a ‘tch’ noise. “And we’re to accept that? Your Majesty, Prince Franz stands accused of murder as well. Do you intend to let him act as character witness for another accused murderer?”

“My mother is innocent,” Susanna said from across the room. “Which the prince must know. He’s probably the one behind both attacks.”

There was a lot of murmuring from around the throne room at that. Franz rolled his eyes, looked at Susanna. “As I recall, it was you who first accused your mother of treason, at the banquet. Did you forget about that?”

Susanna visibly stiffened. “I was acting on planted information.”

“Drawn to your attention by whom?” 

“Nobody,” Susanna said, not backing down. “I regularly look over my house’s finances. Someone knew that.”

“If I might say in my defence,” Elenora broke in. “That whoever chose to use my own daughter as a prop to orchestrate my arrest is most reprehensible.”

“I would agree with that,” Gerard said with a nod. “Given that person is trying to kill _my_ daughter. Assuming, of course, that this is true.”

“I can do nothing but assert my innocence, your Majesty.”

Gavin took a breath, stepped forward. “I’m standing in Lady Suntower’s defence as well. And in my brother’s. Neither of them are murderers.” 

Well, that was nice of him. Franz had spoken at length to Gabrielle before this, but not much to Gavin. Hopefully he knew what he was doing. Franz smiled at him. Gavin returned the smile with a look that clearly said Franz had better bet he one who knew what he was doing. 

“Gavin is right. Both Franz and Lady Suntower have my support as well,” Gabrielle said. 

“I question the impartiality of this,” Olivia said, pointedly. “It’s clear how it’s going to go if both of you are publicly on his side.”

“Do you think, Olivia, that I’d be on the side of a murderer?” Gabrielle asked. “After all the time you’ve known me, you’d think that?” 

A silence fell on the room for a minute, and Franz looked around, judging people’s faces. This was the moment where either everything would be repaired or it would all go very badly, and all he could do was play it best to his advantage. He took a breath. “We’re not the only people who can stand in Lady Suntower’s defence,” he said. “There are a lot of people in here who know she’s innocent. The question is whether any of them are willing to say it.”

“Can I assume you’re building to a point, Franz?” Gerard asked, sounding impatient.

Franz looked at Gabrielle, who nodded. “Always. The point, your Majesty, is that now is not a time for playing games. Lives have been lost and more are at stake. People remain quiet for fear of ramifications on their houses. I’m done remaining quiet.” He sent a very quick glance at Helena as he spoke, who looked annoyed. But too bad. 

“Your Majesty.” 

Franz smiled to himself, turned with everyone else to look at Orwell Feestings. Pale, drawn and looking exhausted, he stepped into the centre of the room, before the dais, beside Lady Suntower. “I am responsible for the attack on the princess at the banquet.” 

The muttering returned. Franz looked down at Lord Orwell, nodding. He’d hoped that the threat of retaliation against his house—against Olivia—would encourage him to step forward. As far as Franz could tell, he’d done everything he had for his family name. He wasn’t going to allow his house as a whole to be punished for this, not when he knew that his secret wasn’t a secret. 

“You might hire assassins with better aim next time,” Gabrielle told him, dry.

“Is that so?” Gerard asked, sounding imperious. “And for what reason did you plot this, Lord Feestings?”

“To make Turner king.” He stood tall, proud. Olivia looked horrified. So did Gavin.

“Grandfather, what are you…”

“Olivia.” Orwell held up a hand. “Gavin was missing. Gloria was next in line for the throne after the princess. When she suggested the marriage to Turner, I saw an opportunity.”

Franz looked at Gloria, who hadn’t said anything. Why had Lord Orwell made sure to implicate her?

“I had written,” Gavin said quietly. Franz wondered if he was missing Owen. “You knew I was alive.”

“We knew Gavin was coming back by that time,” the queen agreed. “You’re admitting that you were planning to kill him too.”

“Eventually, yes.” Orwell nodded. “It was for the good of my family. Or I thought it was. And now Turner’s dead.” That rang out into the throne room, filling it. 

“You believe Turner’s murder was retaliatory?” the king asked.

“I do. Someone caught on to my plan and decided to put a stop to it.”

“Franz knew about your plan,” Olivia whispered, shaking. She’d taken a step back and looked sick. “He knew. How could you have done this?”

“I’m sorry, Olivia.”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me. Don’t you dare…” Olivia closed her eyes, shaking her head against her tears. 

“Guards, remove Lord Feestings from the throne room and confine him to the southern tower. I think the rooms recently vacated by Lady Suntower should do nicely.” As the guards moved away from Elenora and towards Orwell, the king turned his attention to her. “You have the throne’s apologies for falsely accusing you, Lady Suntower.”

“Of course. I understand the impulse, your Majesty.” Lady Suntower bowed, then moved aside, giving her daughter a hug.

“Hold on,” Franz called, as Orwell turned to leave with the guards. “Lord Orwell. Who was your partner?”

Another silence fell into the room, this one very loud. Franz glanced at Gabrielle, who had her arms crossed.

“I had no partner,” Orwell lied. “I was working alone.” 

“Your grandson’s been murdered. Who are you protecting?”

“I have only one living relative, my prince. I think it should be obvious who I’m protecting. I had no partner.” Lord Orwell, head high, resumed his march out of the throne room. 

_Damn_. Franz crossed his arms, looked at Gabrielle, at the king and queen. “He’s lying.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“If I may,” Lord Dominic said suddenly, stepping forward. “Perhaps the prince’s insistence that Orwell had a partner in his crimes is to draw attention away from himself in the matter of Turner’s murder? Clearly Orwell Feestings did not assassinate his own grandson, after all. And if the prince knew about this plan, he would have motive to kill young Turner and put an end to it.” He inclined his head at the king. “After all, a threat to the princess threatens his position among us as well.”

“Because I’m having so much fun being among you,” Franz shot, shaking his head. “You…”

Gabrielle put a hand on Franz’s arm. “Lord Dominic. Franz had no real motive to kill Turner. He could easily have simply exposed Orwell.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Because he was looking for a partner,” Gabrielle said. “One who will go into hiding now.”

“And who may not exist,” Dominic insisted. “We all just heard Orwell’s insistence that he was working alone.” 

“And…” That was Kieran Wrathwate, speaking up and then looking angry that he had. But with everyone looked at him, he directed his eyes to Franz. “And Franz has been asking a lot about Turner. A lot of questions. Since the time the betrothal was announced.”

Franz looked at him, and sighed. But it was Gavin who spoke. “Kieran, that’s not true.”

“You weren’t there, Gavin.”

“Kieran, what are you doing?” Gavin’s voice was quiet. 

Franz looked at Lord Kenneth, standing beside him. “This is quite transparent, even for you, Lord Wrathwate.” 

“You’re the one, Prince Franz, who has been looking into my family and my house in association with the attacks at the banquet,” Lord Kenneth accused, blustering. “You truly believe that I was involved in such heinous things, and now you accuse me of forcing my son to lie? Kieran came to me with his information, in fact.”

Franz’s suspicion of Kenneth Wrathwate was something he and Boey had leaked to Frederick just after the banquet, which meant that Lord Kenneth had heard it from Dominic. Franz looked at Kieran again. “I refute this charge. You’re lying, Kieran, and not well.” 

“Your word against mine, Franz, and I’m not accused of murder.”

“Franz is right,” Hector’s voice rang out suddenly. “Kieran isn’t telling the truth.” 

So much, Franz thought, for not playing politics against one another. 

“I’ll support that.” Gloria’s voice was so quiet that it took Franz a minute to realize she’d spoken. Another hush fell over the room and all eyes fell on her. “The prince didn’t kill Turner. I did. I shouldn’t have agreed to the betrothal, I knew it was a power play. It’s my fault, it’s…” She shook her head, looked away. And yet in that grief that had her unable to finish a sentence, she’d managed to re-implicate Orwell in suggesting the engagement, instead of herself. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Gloria,” Gabrielle said, sighing. “Lying to the throne is a crime, Kieran.”

Kieran looked from Gabrielle to Franz. His expression was pained. Then he looked at Hector, something like betrayal crossing his face. One more look to his father, and Kieran stepped back, looking at the floor. “I…I recant my accusation with apologies.” Lord Kenneth was shifting agitatedly like he wanted to shout.

“In absence of any actual evidence implicating the prince in Lord Turner’s murder, I declare him to be free from suspicion,” Gerard announced. 

“Then who murdered my brother?” Olivia demanded, though without the vehemence she’d shown before. 

“I assure you, Lady Feestings, the throne will spare no resources in discovering that. Justice will be done as soon as humanly possible.” Gerard sighed. “There are other matters to be attended today. Any who do not wish to attend the knighting ceremony, please take your leave now.” 

Franz sighed, and turned to Gabrielle. “Thanks for standing up for me.”

Gabrielle smiled. “You did well.”

“Not as well as I’d have liked.” In the version of events they’d worked out before this performance, Orwell had revealed who his partner was before being led off. Franz should have known better. 

“No, but it’s given us someone to look at,” Gabrielle said, carefully not looking anywhere but at Franz. 

Franz nodded. “I guess that’s true. I’d hoped Orwell would expose Dominic, but knowing it’s him is a good consolation prize.”

He hadn’t gone into this knowing that Dominic was Orwell’s partner. But now it was the only thing that made sense. 

“We’ll expose him. In the meantime, at least you’re not under arrest anymore.”

That, Franz had to agree, was nice. “It was getting a bit tedious.”

“And you didn’t even have to pull out the ‘my mother could invade your country’ card,” Gabrielle teased.

Franz smiled a little, nodded. “I do try to wait for the most extreme circumstances before hiding behind my mother.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Gabrielle smiled at him. “Good work.”

“I feel bad for Olivia.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s Orwell’s.” But Gabrielle’s smile faded a bit. She had taken the news that Lord Orwell had been trying to kill her remarkably well. Much better than Helena had anticipated. “I’ll talk to her.”

“That worked out well last time,” Franz muttered.

“It’s okay. I’ll worry about her. You’ve got lots of other people to worry about on your end.” 

“Yeah.” Franz sighed. “Okay. Knighting ceremonies don’t take very long, right?”

“No, there’s a script. It takes five minutes unless someone does something stupid.”

They looked at each other for a second, then at Gavin. “What are the chances of one of them doing something stupid?”

Gabrielle sighed. “It still probably won’t take that long. And I’m sure Gavin’s coached Owen on how to do it properly. It’ll be fine.”

Franz nodded. “If you say so. It would be nice if one thing could just happen the way it was supposed to.”

“It would be,” Gabrielle agreed. “But you’re very good at adapting when they don’t.”

“I try.”

“You’re going to be a good king, you know.”

Franz blinked, felt heat rising in his face. “You’re going to be a better queen.”

“Obviously. But as far as spouses go, you’ll be good at it.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Franz said with a smile. 

“Again with the conspiring,” Gerard called, though he wasn’t that far away. “We have business to attend.”

“Honestly, they can’t be together for five seconds,” Gavin complained, trying to get his composure back. It was obvious that he was thrown by what had just happened. “So annoying.”

“You’re talking?” Gabrielle challenged.

“Owen and I are perfectly behaved, especially in public. Just watch when he comes in, you’ll see.” Gavin said it with a totally straight face, as if he actually meant it. 

Franz laughed just a little. “We’re looking forward to it.” 

“Call for him,” Gerard said to the servants. “Let’s get this underway.”

Franz was looking forward to the knighting ceremony, if only because it was a relatively straightforward thing that he just had to stand through and watch. 

Afterwards, he still had a lot of work to do.


	26. Business Doesn’t Have to Be Devoid of Fun; Pleasure Doesn’t Have to Be a Waste of Time

“I want someone keeping an eye on Frederick’s friend,” Franz told Boey. “Dominic will know that something strange is happening after the display in the throne room. We need to prepare to take him into our care at a moment’s notice. And I want someone to shadow Frederick next time he goes to meet his informant. No interference unless he’s in danger, but I don’t trust Dominic as far as Frederick could throw him, and I’m not taking any risks.”

“Got it.” Boey nodded, sending Frederick a quick smile before returning his attention to Franz. “And I’m increasing your guard too. It would be very helpful for a few people at this point if you had an unfortunate accident at the end of a misplaced spear, but I’m not one of those people.”

“I don’t need…”

“Yes, you do,” Gabrielle agreed. The four of them were sitting in her rooms instead of Franz’s. They were nicer than his. But then, Franz supposed they would be his too when they got married, so that was nice. “No arguing that one.” 

“Yes, your Majesty,” Franz said, not able to keep the mocking out of his voice. 

Not that the two of them were wrong, necessarily. 

“Nothing obtrusive, though. I don’t want it to be obvious that I’m fearful for the sanctity of my skin.”

“We’ll work it out. We can work a few guards into your retinue of servants so they don’t blend in.”

“Because that won’t stick out at all,” Franz rolled his eyes.

“Your guards seem very skilled,” Gabrielle said, and Boey nodded. “I’m sure they could pull it off.”

“He’d…” Frederick fell silent when they all looked at him, but a nod from Franz got him to keep going. “He’d have to stop going places without his servants, though.” He gave Franz an apologetic look. 

“Yes,” Boey said pointedly, while Gabrielle just gave him a look, with none of Frederick’s apology. “He would.”

“It’s not like I’m sneaking out of the castle to lead a life of crime at night!” Franz protested. “I sometimes visit my friends without a retinue, that’s all.” He paused. “Or at least, I did when I had friends.”

It wasn’t clear that he did any longer.

“You’ll have friends again soon, I suspect,” Gabrielle said, crossing her arms. “Should be interesting.” 

“That’s one way to put it,” Franz sighed.

“Are you going to talk to Helena?” Gabrielle asked. 

Franz hesitated in answering. “I’m going to let her talk to me. I have a feeling she’s mad.”

“She’ll get over it. Her loyalty is to the kingdom.”

“Theoretically, all of our loyalty is to the kingdom,” Franz reminded her.

“Fair. Still.”

Franz sighed. “Still.”

“Um.” Frederick raised his hand a little. “Should I go? If you want to talk…”

“No, stay,” Franz told him, smiling. “Can’t very well have a war council without my chief spy.”

Frederick coloured a little, and Gabrielle raised her eyebrow. “This is not the most impressive war council I’ve ever attended.”

“We are missing my head general,” Franz admitted. “Next time we’ll have to make sure to bring Dragon with us.”

Gabrielle looked at him. “I can’t tell if you’re an idiot and trying to cover it by pretending to be an idiot, or if you just really think you’re funny.”

“It’s both,” Boey supplied. 

“Traitor,” Franz said, shooting him a look. 

“Call me names and see how you like it when you start having to do your own laundry.”

“You don’t do my laundry,” Franz accused.

“No,” Boey said, smiling. “But the servants like me better than you.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Frederick?”

“Um…” Frederick looked between the two of them, looking like he wished they’d let him leave.

“Don’t drag him into this; Frederick is too nice to play that game,” Franz told Boey. 

“I’ll cure him of that yet.”

Gabrielle sighed loudly. “This is going to be my entire life, isn’t it? Having to do all the work because you two can’t focus.”

Franz grinned, a little sheepish. “Everyone knows that nothing important happens in meetings. You waste time for an hour or five and then everyone goes off and the two people who were going to do the actual work do it anyway.”

“The two people in this case being me and Boey,” Gabrielle guessed.

Franz frowned at her. “You shouldn’t be so dismissive of Frederick’s efforts. He’s working hard.”

“Yes, you’re right, he is.” Gabrielle smirked at Franz, turning to the boy. “I commend you for that. It’s appreciated.”

“It’s nothing, your Majesty,” Frederick mumbled, looking down at his lap.

“I don’t think so. I want you to know that when Gavin was your age, he still hid behind me if suits of armour creaked in the halls. Not everyone can commit to high-level espionage, nevermind doing it as young as you are.”

“I’m just trying to protect my friend,” Frederick protested, bright red.

“The best people usually are.” Gabrielle turned to Franz. “We need to flush Dominic out.”

“I know,” Franz nodded. “He’s insulated himself well, though. There’s no official connection between him and Orwell, and unless Orwell talks, there won’t be.”

“Hm.” Gabrielle nodded, tapping a finger on the table. “Maybe we should just kill him.”

“That’s a bit extreme.”

“He tried to kill me first.”

Franz couldn’t argue with that. “I would prefer to wait until we have something resembling real proof, though. Otherwise we look guilty.”

“The thing about being a monarch,” Gabrielle said, pointing at Franz, “is that you can do whatever you want.”

“Yes, but if you don’t want your reign to be decades of people not trusting you because you were coronated in blood, it’s best to save assassination as a justifiable last resort,” Franz disagreed, pointing back. 

Gabrielle held his gaze for a minute, then sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I guess.” She snorted. “Coronated in blood.”

“I missed my calling as a poet.”

“Clearly. You haven’t written me any poetry.”

Franz smiled. “We’re not at that part of the courting yet.” Also, Franz was a terrible poet. 

“It’s taking a very long time.” 

“It usually does. Not everyone is as receptive to it as you.”

“Not everyone is already engaged to you when you start courting them,” Gabrielle pointed out. 

“Fair. You know Gloria pretty well,” Franz ventured. “Is she grieving as hard as she looks like she is?”

Franz had a feeling she wasn’t. 

Gabrielle shrugged. “It’s hard to say with her. She can get emotional like anyone else. But she did manage to make a point of shifting blame onto Orwell after he tried to tar her.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Can I leave her to you?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her. Are you planning to do anything, or are you just going to let the rest of us do all the work?”

“I’m going to find out who I’m still friends with,” Franz started. “And I’m going to go pay some visits to our various prisoners. Orwell and the ones from the banquet.” The ones still surviving, anyway. 

“You think they’ll tell you something that they didn’t tell the interrogators?” Gabrielle didn’t sound very convinced.

“No. But that doesn’t mean I won’t learn something. I’m also going to visit Lady Suntower.”

“That’s a good idea,” Boey said, nodding. “I doubt she was chosen to be framed at random. She might even have a theory as to why.”

“And you won’t be going to these meetings alone,” Gabrielle reminded him.

“Of course not. I am ever dependant on my servants,” Franz agreed, holding out his arms. “Frederick will come with me. You can protect me, right?”

“Um…” Frederick shook his head. “No, my prince. We’ll bring some guards too.”

Franz sighed. “I remember a time when I commanded respect, when people would agree with me just because I’d spoken.”

“When was that?” Gabrielle asked, incredulous. 

“In a dream I had once when I was a kid,” Franz sighed. Frederick snorted a laugh that he tried to hold in. Boey kicked him under the table. Gabrielle just shook her head. 

They were the only people Franz wanted on his war council.


	27. New Information Can Sometimes Change All the Rules of a Game

The dungeon was dark, as dungeons were supposed to be, and the torch held up by the guard behind Franz didn’t do a lot to dispel the dark except in a small ring around them. He could hear things skittering in the corners and outside of the light. 

He couldn’t imagine working in a place like this. He couldn’t imagine living in one either.

“Open it,” Franz said, looking at the door. The guard stepped forward, used a huge metal key on the lock, and let the door creak open. 

Chains clinked inside as Franz stepped in, the guard behind him. He had one hand on his sword, the other holding the torch aloft. There were two men chained to the walls in here, and the guard indicated the man on the left with a nod. Of the five men who had plotted to attack Gabrielle at the banquet, two had died in Isaac’s attack and a third had died in custody. Whatever Isaac had done to them had done a lot of damage that had required a lot of healing. Ragged, unshaven, dirty and hair matted with what looked like dried blood, both men looked up briefly when Franz came in, and then back down at the floor.

The guard’s nod had been to indicate that the man on the left was the leader of the two, and probably had been the leader of the whole group. Franz crouched in front of the man on the right. “You tried to kill my betrothed,” he said quietly. 

The man didn’t answer. 

“Or rather, you planned to kill her, but didn’t get far enough to try. Why did you plan to do that?”

“Got nothing to say to you,” the man said, voice hoarse. 

Franz sighed, then regretted it as he breathed in. The cell smelled disgusting. “You should. I’m the closest you’re going to get to someone who cares down here.” 

“Don’t talk to him,” the other man said. “He doesn’t know nothing.”

“Neither do you,” Franz said, not turning around. “Questioning you hasn’t worked, but questioning him might.” 

“Would if he knew something,” the man spat. “If either of us did. I already told you, we don’t know who hired us.”

Franz frowned at the man in front of him. “How much were you paid?” He knew how much money had been taken out of Lady Suntower’s accounts, but wondered how much of it the middleman had taken. 

The man behind Franz started to say something, but the one he was facing spoke up. “Thousand silver pieces each.”

That had Franz’s frown deepening. “Really? For all five of you, or just you underlings?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

The man behind him notably didn’t say anything, and Franz thought about that. It was a pitifully small amount to pay them considering who their target had been. “How many people have you killed in the past?”

“More than you, I bet.”

“Oh, my God,” Franz muttered, standing straight. “You’re amateurs. You’re not even real assassins.” 

“The fuck does a spoiled brat like you know?” the leader asked, angry.

Franz shook his head. “Real assassins would have known how to deal with a minor situation like what happened to you. And they’d have been paid more, and not found out so easily.” He bit his lip, thinking. “You were set up to fail. The assassination was never supposed to go through.”

“You…”

Franz wasn’t listening. He turned and left the cell, letting the guard shut the door behind him. Out there in the dark, Franz stood, thinking. “I want to talk to the others,” he said after a minute. “The ones who were disguised as servants.” 

The guard led him to their cells in turn, and every conversation Franz had only confirmed his suspicions. None of these people had known what they were doing. Someone had spent a fair amount of money on a plot that had been intended to fail from the beginning. 

He stood outside the last cell door, thinking. “This is where the other group is being kept, yes?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” the guard confirmed. “Only four of them.”

“Open it.” This was the group that had attacked Peter. _Two arrows for two targets._

The guard opened the door and Franz went in, used to the smell by this point. They were chained in the four corners of the room, the mage among them with glowing runes on his wrists. Franz looked at the front man, the one they’d all recognized at the banquet, and crossed his arms. “Do you know who I am?”

The man nodded at him, and Franz nodded back. “Good. Who were you after at the banquet?”

“The chosen one, we already told them that, and everything we know.”

They had, according to what Franz had heard. And it was a whole lot of nothing. “There were three chosen ones at the banquet. Were you after all of them or just one?”

There was some silence, and it looked like the man was trying to silently confer with the others. Franz let them do that, and after a minute, the man looked up at him again. “They told us there’d be other kids there as distractions, so it was hard to know which kid was the real chosen one. But we were after the one with the cane, he’s the real one.”

Peter. So he had been their target. “And the other attack.”

“We didn’t know about that,” the cell’s lone woman insisted, in a tired voice that suggested she’d said this a number of times. “We had nothing to do with it. Weren’t interested in the princess.”

Franz nodded. “I believe you. Why wasn’t your mage down in the room? Putting a man with a knife up against a magic practitioner is clearly a bad idea.”

More silent conferring, and it was the mage who answered. “Instructions from the employer.”

“I see.” That was all Franz needed to know. He turned, walked out of the cell without another word, closing his eyes to try and sort out the swirl of his thoughts as the guard pulled the door shut behind them. _Two arrows for two targets._ Who had sent him that message? Even Helena hadn’t known about the second group of attackers, or at least she hadn’t told him about them. Franz wondered if they had been there as a distraction for the first group, but that didn’t work if the first group had been there to fail. 

Which meant the person who’d sent him that note was most likely the person who’d hired Peter’s attackers. 

“Didn’t realize decorative assassination attempts were in the vogue up north,” Franz muttered to himself. 

“Your Majesty?”

Franz shook his head at the guard. “I’m finished here. Thank you.” He strode towards the stairs, making a fast pace out of the dungeons.

Once he was at the top of the stairs, Franz took in a breath of fresh air and leaned against a wall for a minute, deciding what to do. He wanted to talk to Boey and Gabrielle, in that order. But while he was hot on this thread, he decided he may as well keep tugging it, and Franz set a course for the south tower. 

“Sir?”

Franz glanced down at Frederick. He’d forgotten the boy was waiting there for him. “It smelled terrible down there. I’m glad you didn’t come down. No reason for both of us to need a bath.”

“Yes, sir.” Frederick smiled. 

“Frederick,” Franz said as he walked. “The person who brought you that message for me on the night of the banquet. You’re sure you didn’t recognize him? Nothing about him was familiar?”

Frederick shook his head. “No. I’d never seen him before.” 

“And you’ve worked in the castle since you were seven?”

“Six, sir.”

“Hm.” Franz nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help…” Frederick sounded despondent.

“No, it’s okay. Somebody knew they’d be giving you the message and made sure it was a messenger you’d never seen. That’s attention to detail.” It would be easier to catch these people if they would make a mistake now and then. 

On the third floor, a small door was flanked by two guards. “Let me in,” he said to them, and though they hesitated, they did open the door, allowing Franz entry. 

Orwell Feestings was sitting at the small table, drinking tea. The tower cell was a small room, properly appointed with furniture, a door leading to the bedroom on one wall and another door leading to a privy and bathing room on the other. One of the benefits of being noble. The people who’d actually held the blades rotted in the dark, and the man who’d hired them sat in a room only slightly less comfortable than his home. Orwell looked up when Franz entered. He looked terrible, eyes sunken and tired, seeming more frail than Franz remembered him being. 

Franz took the seat opposite him, considered him. Orwell put his teacup down. “If you’re here to ask me about some fictional co-conspirator, you’re wasting your time, Prince Franz.” 

Franz knew that, and he nodded. “I can protect Olivia from Dominic.”

He wasn’t sure at all if that was true, but he was only saying it to watch Orwell’s expression. Something crossed his face, surprise maybe. He’d hoped that saying Dominic’s name would encourage Orwell to talk. 

But no luck there. “And why should you need to do that? I’m not aware that he’s threatening her.”

Franz sighed. “Do you think that my investigation into you is the reason Turner was killed?” he asked instead. 

Orwell looked at him for a long moment. “I do,” he said finally.

Franz nodded. He’d expected that coming face to face with Orwell would evoke more anger, from both of them. But it was just quiet and sad. “I did too, and if that’s true, then I’m sorry. I never did give you my condolences on his death.”

“I don’t need them from you.”

“No, I guess you don’t.” Franz sighed. “The assassins at the banquet. You hired them.”

An incremental nod. “The group after the princess. I was not involved in the attack on the mages.”

Franz nodded back. “And your intention, to be clear, was that she would die at the banquet, then you’d kill Gavin later, then either kill Gerard and Georgina or just wait until they died, and put Gloria and Turner on the throne in the future.” 

“That’s correct, as I’ve said many times now.”

“And you used a middleman so your name wouldn’t be attached to the attack.”

“I had a discreet servant contact a friend, who hired a contractor who hired the middleman,” Orwell clarified. “One needs a buffer from such things, after all.” 

“See…” Franz leaned back in his chair, tilting it back a little. “The thing about that, Lord Orwell, is that I’ve just finished talking to the would-be assassins, and it’s clear to me that they weren’t meant to succeed. So either you hired the worst killers in the kingdom by mistake, or at some point in the buffer of people between yourself and them, someone interfered.” 

The smallest of frowns was Franz’s first indication that he’d said something Orwell didn’t already know. Rather than letting him talk, Franz pressed. “I could throw details at you all afternoon that led me to that conclusion, and I will if you’re interested. But for now, let’s assume I’m correct about that. The partner you insist doesn’t exist betrayed you before Turner’s murder, Lord Orwell.” 

Looking very thoughtful, Orwell poured himself some more tea, a stalling tactic. He poured a second cup for Franz and handed it to him before drinking his own. “Tell me the truth,” Franz said. “Whose idea was the marriage between Turner and Gloria?”

“Mine.” Orwell nodded. “It was part of the plan.”

“Hm. Why?”

“Do you require me to explain the line of succession to you, Prince Franz?”

Franz smiled. “No, I’m quite knowledgeable about that. Why kill Gabrielle and Gavin to get Gloria on the throne, when it would be infinitely easier to kill me and talk the king and queen into letting Turner marry Gabrielle?”

Orwell stiffened a little. “That would have been far too transparent, and the risk of war if we angered your family wasn’t acceptable.”

“Framing me for murder might have started a war anyway,” Franz reminded him. “But I believe you, because I don’t think you’d have done something that was intentionally bad for your house, or even for the kingdom. But as I’ve said, you were betrayed before Turner was killed. I think your nonexistent partner was always planning to kill your grandson, and since you feel that Olivia is threatened if you talk, I wonder if there were threats to Turner before he was killed.”

Franz let that one sit for a minute, watching Lord Orwell drink his tea. He had a dignity, even like this. And he put the cup down, and looked Franz in the eye. “I was not truthful earlier. I do not believe, my prince, that your investigation was the cause of Turner’s death. And that is all I will say on the subject.” He looked pained.

“I understand,” Franz said quietly, heart racing. “I won’t ask you anything else about it. I will say this, though. If I’m right that the assassins were supposed to fail, then the whole time when I thought I was in charge of the situation, I was being played, at a far deeper level than I realized. And I suspect you were as well.”

“I have confessed to my role in the assassination attempts, Prince Franz.”

“Don’t misunderstand. I don’t think you’re innocent. But I also don’t know if you’re really guilty anymore—I think you might just have been complicit. Which is nearly as bad to some, but might save you from execution to life imprisonment instead.”

Orwell nodded. “And what need have I for life imprisonment, my prince? What life? My granddaughter is your age. How much longer do you think I shall live? A year, two, five? I regret that I will miss her wedding.” A tired look overcame Orwell. “Let them hang me. I deserve it.”

“Maybe.” Franz stood. He was more shaken by this conversation than he’d expected to be. “You look tired, Lord Orwell.”

“So do you, my prince.” 

Franz stood there, watching him a moment longer, before nodding and retreating from the tower. Once again, after the door was closed behind him, he found himself just standing there with Frederick, thinking.

When he realized that the guards were staring at him, Franz shook his head, trying to walk like he wasn’t off-balance, and went to go find Boey.


	28. Just Because There’s a Crisis Doesn’t Mean People Will Stop Trying to Serve Their Own Ends

Since he had to leave the castle to do it, Franz brought Frederick, Boey and Alvin with him when he went to go visit Lady Suntower. 

Dragon had cried at them when they’d left without him, but Franz was trying not to look too ridiculous. No need to bring out the whole army when he was just going for a walk down the road.

Their house was three up from Hector’s and two down across the road from Olivia’s. Like the others, the blue tower standard on the gate identified it for Franz, and he’d been let in easily enough. They didn’t even seem to mind that he’d brought his people with him, though one of her guards followed them the entire time they were in the house. 

“Prince Franz,” Elenora said with a smile as he was admitted to the room. Franz gestured for Alvin to stay outside, but the other two followed him. “I had a feeling you’d be visiting sometime.”

“I’m grateful that you had me,” Franz said cordially as he took a chair. Susanna was sitting there too, and she nodded at Franz. “You look to have recovered from your incarceration.”

“Well, it was a brief one, far briefer than I suspect Orwell’s will be.”

“I suspect you’re right, Lady Suntower,” Franz said, taking the tea that one of Elenora’s servants offered him. Boey and Frederick were just standing there by the door, which was why Franz had suggested they stay back. But no, nobody listened to him, he was only royalty. “I suppose it’s unreasonable to assume you’ve taken time to relax rather than going straight back to your duties for the king?”

Elenora laughed, and Susanna rolled her eyes. “Yes, I daresay it is,” Elenora said. “The economy isn’t going to manage itself, my prince. Speaking of which…”

“I wrote my mother shortly after the banquet to tell her your concerns about the piracy on the west coast,” Franz told her, nodding. “You were indisposed at the time, alas.”

“Alas,” Elenora said, nodding, no sign of what she was thinking in her voice. Franz thought she sounded amused. 

“Her letter back indicates that there is a piracy problem on the west coast at present,” Franz went on. “It seems that one of the local pirates has seized power over the others. It happens from time to time; they never last long and the navy is dealing with it.”

“Not very quickly, it seems. Another shipment went missing just earlier this week.”

Franz hadn’t heard about that, and he frowned. “The problem is we think their base is north of the border, so sending a naval force to investigate without knowing where we’re looking is a bit of tricky business. And your navy up here isn’t being very cooperative.” 

“Ah.” Elenora nodded now. “We shall have to have Mia speak with them, and the king speak with your mother to ease things over, seeing as our diplomatic advisor is currently indisposed. Speaking of advisors, how is your uncle?”

Franz looked away. He’d received another letter just this morning. “They’ve decided to declare him and his people missing. He isn’t answering any missives and he’s been gone far too long.”

Franz had always liked his uncle Hans. He hoped he was okay. He was worried he wasn’t. He was worried about the fact that Stephan Fyrhawk had taken his position in court. He was worried about the fact that his mother had told him not to worry, something she had never done. He was worried, because he couldn’t do anything about anything that was happening at home. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” Elenora said to him, in a tone that suggested she meant that. “My dearest hopes that he will return safely.”

Franz nodded. “Thank you. Uncle Hans is a smart man, I’m sure he’ll be okay.” Somehow. 

What neither of them was saying was the same thing that Franz’s mother hadn’t said in her letter, which was that aside from the fear that something had happened to Hans, there was the equal fear that nothing had happened to him, and that he wasn’t coming back to the capital for his own reasons. 

“I’m sure you didn’t come all the way here to say things you could have put in a letter,” Susanna said now, watching Franz as if waiting for him to do a trick. 

Franz gave her a smile. It was clear that Elenora had her here on purpose. “No, I’m sure I didn’t either.” Directing his attention back to Susanna’s mother, he said, “Lady Suntower, why do you think you were chosen as the target to be framed at the banquet?”

A shrug. “I’m afraid I haven’t the foggiest, my prince, which I suspect you don’t want to hear me say.”

“You suspect correctly, but mostly because I don’t believe you.” Franz set his teacup down on the table, watching. 

“Franz,” Susanna began, but Elenora held up a hand. 

“I think what he means is that he doesn’t believe I don’t have suspicions, Susanna. Not that he thinks I know something.” At Franz’s nod, Elenora nodded as well. “Any number of people stand to gain from framing me, as is the case for anyone in my position, as you well know, my prince. I could throw names at you all day and all you’d have is a list of people who everyone knows don’t like me. If I had to participate in conjecture, I’d suggest that it may have been due to my part in bringing you here.”

“Of course,” Franz sighed. “You know, it would be much easier if you could have told me that someone has always secretly hated you.”

“I’m sure someone has, but if they do to a degree where they’re willing to frame me for treason, I’m afraid it’s a well-kept secret.”

“At least from you.”

“At least from me.” She gave him a look. “What will you do if it turns out Orwell doesn’t have a partner after all?”

“I’ll be extremely wrong,” Franz told her, smiling thinly. He wasn’t wrong. “Alright. I’ll let you know if I hear anything new about the piracy situation.”

“That would be appreciated, my prince. Thank you for stopping by,” Elenora said, smiling as Franz rose. 

“I’ll walk you out,” Susanna said, going to lead Franz from the room. 

Franz smiled at her, let her do it. When they were out in the hallway, she sighed, looked at him through dark eyes, and shook her head. “I’m sorry for the things I said, before. I was upset.”

Franz nodded. “Don’t worry about it. The past is over.”

Susanna snorted. “No, it’s not. It never is. Give Mia Hardhold a good look, will you?”

That was unexpected. “Why?” 

“Because the past is never over,” Susanna said, patting Franz on the arm and heading back into the room. 

Nodding to himself, Franz didn’t say anything until they were out of the house and walking down the street with Alvin in tow again. “Thoughts?” he asked Frederick and Boey. 

“Um…” Frederick waited until Franz glanced his way. “She was lying, my prince. Lady Suntower.”

“When she said she didn’t know who might have framed her?”

“Yes. And also when she said she hoped your uncle came back safely.” 

That gave Franz pause, and a look at Boey confirmed that Frederick wasn’t the only one. “It’s not as though she knows him, she hasn’t got cause to care about him personally. But it could be something to look into. Thank you.”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that Susanna following you out wasn’t planned,” Boey warned, as they made their way down the street. A drably-dressed young woman carrying a basket moved to the side to get out of their way as they passed. “Elenora put her up to that, I guarantee it.”

“I had a feeling too,” Franz muttered, noticing that Frederick had wandered out to the side a bit. When he came back, the woman with the basket was moving off and he had a piece of paper in his hand. 

They were just passing by the Quate house now. “She’s getting less subtle, I think,” Franz commented.

Boey nodded while Frederick unrolled the note. “Step in if you have a minute,” he read.

“I don’t,” Franz said, shaking his head. He liked Helena and didn’t think she was involved. But she’d been nowhere during the time he’d been accused of murder when she could easily have exonerated him. “I’m not playing games with her. If she wants to talk she can come see me like an adult.”

More likely she would just send Hector, but that could work too. Either way, Franz just kept walking, right past the house and back towards the castle. “Let’s find out what we can about Mia Hardhold and why the Suntowers want us to look at her, shall we?”


	29. There Are Some Things that Are Just Horribly Embarrassing, No Matter What

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Franz needed a break from all the intense intrigue that was happening, so I decided to make him very uncomfortable. But at least he's not alone in it.

“The bath will be ready in just a minute or so, sir,” Frederick said from the doorway.

Franz looked up from the poem he was trying to write Gabrielle. “Thank you, Frederick. I’ll be there in a second.”

Frederick nodded and disappeared back into the room where the bath was. Once he was gone, Boey looked up from his book and said, “You have to talk to him.”

“To Frederick?” Franz asked. “About what?” He was trying to think about what he’d forgotten about in all the quiet chaos of the last few weeks. Probably a lot of things.

“Sex.”

Oh. Franz put his pen down slowly, looked up at Boey, trying to pretend he wasn’t horrified. “Is this about this morning?”

They’d been dallying a little in waking up and Frederick had come in to check on them. If he hadn’t already known that Franz was perfectly capable of swallowing Boey’s entire cock, he did now. 

“Partly, but it’s also partly about the tent he was pitching in his pants through all of breakfast. And partly because he’d old enough to know about things that he doesn’t, and I suspect it’s because nobody’s told him. He doesn’t have any living relatives, remember.”

Franz sighed, nodded. “Fair enough. Can’t you do it?”

Boey shook his head. “I talk to him about espionage, politics, history, literature, math, writing and general comportment. You talk to him about how to fight with a sword and, well, how to play with a sword.”

Face warm, Franz glowered. “Seems like you’d be better at it.”

“No. You’re doing it.”

“Why?” Franz whinged. Dragon lifted up his head under the table. 

“Because I don’t want to.” Boey rolled his eyes. “God, Franz. You had this talk once, it’s not that hard.”

“It was hard!” Franz had been woken up way too early one morning and taken out on a boat with his father and uncle, where he’d spent half the day contemplating jumping into the Shrike’s Lake and swimming back to Hawk’s Roost. Or just drowning, that would have been preferable as well. 

“Yeah, but you survived. Now go get in the bath.”

Franz sighed, stood, and headed that way. Boey didn’t move. “You’re not going to have a bath with me?”

“No,” Boey shook his head, looking down at his book. “Frederick is going to have a bath with you.”

Franz frowned, then shook his head. “Wait, I have to do it _now_?” 

“Yes.”

“Boey!”

“Just get it over with and it’ll be done.” 

Franz sighed again, very dramatically this time. He’d been looking forward to not having to jump off a tower today.

“Go.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Franz sighed, headed again for the bathing room, this time in a funereal march. 

Frederick reappeared in the door just as Franz got there, sleeves rolled up. “My…oh.” He smiled at Franz. “The bath is ready, my prince.”

“Thank you, Frederick,” Franz said, passing by him and heading into the room. It was a good sized room with a tile floor. The back half was taken up by a raised bathtub reached with three steps, which was built into the room and fed with water from a chute on the wall. All Frederick had to do was go somewhere and get them to heat the water and it came pouring into the tub. It was all very impressive.

Franz started to pull his shirt off. “Frederick,” he called, affecting confidence as Frederick made to leave the room like he usually did, because Franz was an adult who could bathe himself just fine.

“Yes, sir?” Frederick sounded confused. 

“Come get in the bath with me, will you?” he asked, smiling at the frown he got. “In the south it’s common for family members to bathe together, and you’re a member of my household now. I’m sure it’s preferable to the servants’ baths, isn’t it?”

“Um, yes, my prince,” Frederick said, returning to the room, red in the face. He started taking off his own shirt as well. “Do you…need something?”

“No, I just want to sit in the bath and talk,” Franz said, smiling at him. He knew if he told Frederick what he was planning, Frederick would run away. Or at least, he assumed Fredrick would run away since that was what Franz would have done at his age, and he had been much less shy than Frederick. 

“Okay…sir.” Frederick set his shirt in a basket, and started to undo his pants as well. He carefully folded everything all up before he moved on. Franz undressed with him, untying his loincloth as Fredrick was folding up his pants, tossing it haphazardly into a basket. 

“When did you start dressing like a southerner?” Franz asked, nodding at the loincloth Frederick was wearing. Last time Franz had seen him out of his pants he’d been wearing northern smallclothes.

“Oh, um…” Frederick was red in the face and looked like he wished he could die. So at least he was in the right frame of mind for what was about to happen. “A few weeks ago. I was curious and I liked it when I tried it. I hope it doesn’t bother you, my prince, I know I’m not…”

“I hardly have the monopoly on undergarments, Frederick,” Franz assured him, trying to smile in a nice way that made this conversation less weird. “As long as the parts of your clothes that I can often see are the right shade of green, I don’t care what you wear under them. That said, I’m glad you like it. I find smallclothes too tight, don’t you?” He’d only worn them a few times, but it hadn’t been good.

“Yes, my prince. I-I do, now that I’ve stopped wearing them,” Frederick admitted, playing with the end of his loincloth and not doing much else. 

Franz patted him on the shoulder. He definitely had less baby fat on him than he had when Franz had hired him. “No need to be shy. I daresay whatever you’re hiding in there is something I’ve seen a good number of in my life.”

Frederick gave a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, sir.”

“No need to be sorry. Here. Maybe it’s easier if I’m not standing here right in front of you,” Franz said, and he turned to head into the bathtub. 

By the time he’d sat down in the steaming water—Frederick understood how hot he wanted it, which was itself valuable—Frederick had undone his loincloth and was folding it up carefully, giving Franz a moment to look at him and realize that, of course, Boey was right that Frederick was at an age where his body was probably doing things he didn’t know about, and maybe had been for a while. He also had a scar at the top of his left thigh, jagged and faded.

Looking away so that Frederick wouldn’t think he was creepy, Franz waited for him to get in the water and smiled. “See, not so bad.”

Giving a bit of a chuckle, Frederick nodded as he got himself settled in the water, reaching for the soap. “Yes, sir. I’m…not normally shy. I mean, I bathe with people almost all the time. I just, uh…”

“Getting naked with a new person is always tricky the first time,” Franz said, smiling at Frederick’s nod. “I know. It can be awkward.”

“Yeah.” Frederick nodded, soaping up an arm. 

“You know you can bathe with us whenever you want,” Franz added, to stall. “Boey and I don’t mind. In the south, people bathe together all the time, you wouldn’t be intruding or overstepping or anything like that.”

“I….” Frederick worried at his lip a bit.

“You don’t have to. But you’re welcome to, okay?”

“Okay.”

Franz nodded, and was quiet for a second. Time to do it. “I’m going to make it worse, the awkwardness.” 

“Excuse me?” Frederick asked, looking up from his arm. “Worse?”

“Just this once,” Franz promised. “Bear in mind that once this is over, it’ll be so much more normal every other time.”

“My prince?”

“Let’s talk about getting naked with people, Frederick, and about what your body does when you do.”

Frederick’s eyes went wide, and he backed up a little. “Um. Do…we have to?”

“Yes,” Franz said, nodding. “How old are you, twelve?”

“I’ll be thirteen next month,” Frederick said, looking away. “Um. I’m okay. I…know about things. I heard from other servants, and from…” he shrugged. “Somewhere. I don’t need you to…”

“Frederick, this isn’t my idea of a fun time either,” Franz said, gut twisting a little. He told himself that he couldn’t be as mortified as Frederick, if nothing else. “But everyone needs to have this chat with an adult at some point. And I’m betting you never did with Dominic, did you?”

A little sullen, Frederick shook his head. “Okay.” He had a resigned look on his face and was contemplating his reflection in the water.

“You don’t have to talk much, if that makes it easier,” Franz said. Then he paused, took a deep breath, and tried to decide what to say first. He’d never done this before and he hadn’t listened much when his father had done it with him. “Okay. I’m sure you’ve noticed that there are some things changing with your body the last little while,” Franz began. “Things getting bigger, hair growing in weird places, things smelling funny?” At Frederick’s short nod, Franz went on. “That’s all normal, it means you aren’t a little kid in anymore. Your body is getting ready to be an adult, which is to say that it’s getting ready to have children. Not that growing hair under your arms is a requirement for having children. It’s um, to do with your brain making your body hotter, and…hold on, I’m not explaining this well.”

Franz took another breath. This was why Boey should have done this. Frederick sat there, quietly, watching him without looking at him. “Okay,” Franz said, a moment later. “Your body maturing means that certain changes are happening. I probably don’t need to tell you that one of chose changes was what was happening to you during breakfast.” Frederick closed his eyes. “Do you get hard a lot?”

Frederick gave a slow nod, obviously wishing he were somewhere else.

Franz wished he were somewhere else too. “Do you ever play with it?”

Frederick swallowed. “S-sometimes. I try not to, but…”

“You should,” Franz told him. “It’s fun and it doesn’t hurt anyone. When you do, it feels good, and if you do it right, it eventually feels really good. Has that happened?” Another nod. “That’s an orgasm. Everyone likes those. Does anything ever come out? A fluid?”

Franz wanted to die for even asking that question, so he could imagine how Frederick felt when he nodded mutely. 

“That’s called semen. It’s the seeds that babies grow out of, if you put them in a woman. Not that you have to do that. You can put it in a man, or let someone put it in you, or do stuff that ends up with it on the skin, or on the ground or in someone’s mouth or…”

“I get it!” Frederick said, voice ringing out a little.

“Right.” Franz wished the bathwater weren’t so hot. He was going to pass out. “Sorry. The point is that you’ll start making more of that as you get older, and that’s normal too. Between that and how fun playing with yourself is, it creates a bit of a laundry dilemma, but that’s for you to deal with like the rest of us had to. I’m going to say some words now that neither of us want me to say out loud in this conversation, so just listen and I’ll never say them to you again. If you decide to have sex with women when you’re older, you’ll put your penis inside her vagina, and if you shoot your semen in there it might fertilize a small egg, which is how it turns into baby. There’s more too it than that, but since I don’t assume you plan to do that tomorrow, maybe I’ll save the details for next time we both want to be embarrassed to death, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Frederick said, strained. 

Franz nodded, reminding himself that he would need to read up on the details, preferably before he got married to Gabrielle. They had never seemed that important when he’d had Boey. “The main thing you need to get is that what’s happening to you is normal. Lots of things are normal. Dreams about sex. Dreams not about sex that you still end up hard over, having an orgasm in your sleep. Getting hard at weird times, wanting to touch yourself a lot, not wanting to do stuff like that at all, some people don’t. Thinking about people you know in a sexual way, thinking about people you don’t know in a sexual way, even if you don’t actually want to do anything with them. Liking boys, or girls, or both or neither or something else, all normal, all of it. Even that.” Franz pointed to where Frederick was obviously hiding behind his hand. “Normal. Don’t worry about it. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad about it. Don’t do anything that would hurt yourself or someone else. And you’ll be fine.”

Franz sighed. “Oh, wash everywhere, especially under your arms, with soap, or you’ll smell bad and nobody likes that. Peel back your foreskin and wash there too. And remember that you’re getting there, but you’re still a kid. I’m not telling you this so you can go out and have sex tonight. I mean you can if you really want to, I’m sure you can find a brothel on the shadier side that will let you in, but really I’d wait at least a few years. You can have a lot of fun without putting your dick in someone. Hands are good, use those. But I’m not your dad, I’m not going to stop you from doing what feels good. Just…be careful, and don’t feel like you have to grow up all at once. And if you’re going to a brothel, go to a nice one. There are diseases and they’re not fun to get.”

When Franz fell quiet, Frederick let out a breath. “Is…that all?”

Franz thought about it. “If you do have someone you want to do something with, make it nice. Don’t just drag some maid into a broom closet. Most people like kissing, do that first. Be nice to them. Be nice to people generally.” Franz thought about it. “Okay, that’s it. You can ask me questions. I know you don’t want to, especially right now probably, but I know a lot about this, like you saw this morning, which, sorry, by the way. So you can always ask me or Boey about anything you want to know. We both did this too when we were your age, so you know. We know what we’re about. Especially if you want to do things with other boys, we’re particular experts in that, but I think we both know the basic theory when it comes to ladies.”

Frederick looked like he’d fallen off a roof or had some blood vessels burst in his face, but he nodded. “Th-thank you.”

“Thank you for listening,” Franz told him. “And I’m sorry for springing that on you. You wouldn’t have come if I’d told you why.”

Frederick shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “But…thank you. F-for caring enough to tell me all that. Even if it was…”

“Horrible?”

Frederick nodded now. “I never thought I’d…have a family.”

Franz couldn’t help but smile at him. “You do now, Frederick. That cemented it. It’s something passed down by generations, father to son, brother to brother, that sort of thing. Some day you can embarrass the hell out of some poor kid by telling him how his body works. Not that it’s much easier from this end, to be honest.” Franz felt like he’d run a marathon. “No offence, but I wasn’t any more excited to sit here and talk about your penis than you were.”

A laugh, and Fredrick lathered up some soap under his arms. Franz did the same, grateful that they seemed to be mostly okay. “Um…can I actually ask a question?”

“Of course.” Franz hadn’t expected that. 

“Is…” He was nervous. He was about to ask about something perfectly normal, Franz could tell. “I sometimes think about taking my clothes off outside, and I get hard. Is…”

“Yes,” Franz assured him. “Normal. Maybe don’t actually do it unless you’re sure it’s safe and there aren’t people around. But it’s a normal thing to fantasize about.”

Frederick let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. Is…am I small? Like, smaller than normal?”

“No.” Frederick was maybe a little behind in development, but not strangely so. 

“Only a lot of boys my age are bigger than me, I mean.”

“People grow at different speeds. We all get to the same place eventually, Frederick. And you have grown recently; actually, we need to get the tailor back in here. Though I know that’s not what you meant.” He smiled as Frederick coloured. “It looks like a perfectly good size to me.”

“Okay.” Frederick rubbed his nose. At least he wasn’t hiding behind his hand anymore. “This morning.’

“Sorry about that, we didn’t hear you knock.”

Frederick nodded. “Does…it taste good?”

Franz raised an eyebrow. He never would have been brave enough to ask that question. He chose to put it up to the welcoming environment he’d fostered. “It’s an acquired taste. I like it.”

“Okay. Sorry, I know I only said one question, but…”

“It’s fine,” Franz said, rinsing soap off. “Go ahead.”

“Is it true you can have s-sex in the butt?”

Franz nearly laughed at the earnestness, at the mild disbelief, paired with the innocent phrasing. “Yes. Heard some older boys and thought they were joking, did you?”

Frederick looked away, nodding. “Does it…”

“Yes. It feels good, especially if you’re good at it. Sex is like anything else, you get better at it the more you practice.” This was getting a lot easier, which Franz hadn’t expected. He had no problem talking about sex normally, so now that they were outside of the formal “discussion about sex” it as a lot easier. Maybe he should have set it up as a question and answer thing from the start. 

“How…” Frederick swallowed. “How do you know if you like someone?”

Franz smiled. He had a feeling that Frederick had circled around this one for a bit. “If you’re asking that, it’s probably because you do.” 

“Oh…” That earned a sigh. “There’s…a girl. Who works in the castle stables. Her name’s Abby.”

“Does Abby know your name?” Franz asked. In his head, Franz had made a picture of Frederick as his very competent page and spy who spent a lot of time knowing things about people that they didn’t want known, and who was helping him fool a very dangerous man. It was very easy to forget that he was also a stumbling twelve-year-old boy. The reminder was kind of hilarious. 

“I…talk to her sometimes,” he hedged. “She’s a spy for Lady Quate, I’m pretty sure. That’s why I watch her a lot. Um. That’s why I told myself I was watching her a lot. She’s, um. Pretty.” 

“Watch less,” Franz advised. “And talk more. Try not to look afraid. Smile. Listen when she talks. And remember that you’re a spy too. Don’t say anything you shouldn’t say just because she’s pretty.” 

“I won’t,” Frederick promised, nodding. “Sorry, you probably don’t need me to waste your time with that.”

“It’s not a waste if it makes you happy,” Franz told him, leaning back on the side of the tub. “I told you, I wanted to sit and talk. Bath time is boy time as far as I’m concerned. We can work later with our clothes on.”

That got an honest grin out of Frederick. “Okay. Maybe I will join you sometimes, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, you’re always welcome.” Franz didn’t figure Boey would have a problem with that. 

“I won’t be, um, in your and Boey’s way?”

“If we plan to have sex, we’ll wait until you leave, Frederick, don’t worry.” Franz knew that servants had seen him and Boey before, but not because he’d gone out of his way to make sure they did. 

“I would appreciate that,” Frederick laughed. “When, um. When we’re done…can you teach me how to shave?”

Franz nodded. Another thing that he hadn’t realized nobody had done for Frederick. Not that he really needed it at the moment, but that was fine. “Sure thing. Another important family tradition.”

That earned him another chuckle, but Franz was serious. Frederick was one of his now, family in every sense that mattered. 

And Franz looked out for his family.


	30. It’s Difficult to Discuss Business at Family Dinners Without Getting Sidetracked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I do something major at milestone chapters. Sometimes the characters have dinner. It's a toss-up here at Penguin Studios.

“How is your investigation going, Franz?”

Franz paused in the act of moving food into his mouth to look up at the queen. “Slowly,” he told her, shaking his head. “I’ve yet to uncover any reasonable leads on Turner’s killer or Gabrielle’s attacker.”

The crown was formally investigating both of those things too. But Franz knew for a fact that they hadn’t turned up anything, so he didn’t feel bad about running his own search. 

“But you still think it’s Dominic,” Gavin said. The six of them were eating together; he and Gabrielle, the king and queen, and Gavin and Owen. 

Franz smiled at him. “I have no proof with which to accuse Lord Dominic of collaboration.”

Gavin nodded, taking a drink of his wine. “Do you want help? I could…”

“It’s better if you don’t get involved, Gavin,” Georgina interrupted, shooting her son a look that he shot right back. They were similar, the two of them. “You and Franz would end up tripping over each other.”

“I was offering to help, that’s all.”

“You’d try to take over,” Owen muttered, giving Gavin an entirely different kind of look. “And you know it.”

Gavin watched Owen for a second, before falling into what might be characterized as a sullen silence. “I guess.” He turned back to Franz. “Let me know if you need help.”

“I could stand to have someone talk to Kieran and find out why he and his father decided to accuse me,” Franz said. He didn’t need Gavin to do that, but Gavin would meddle if he wasn’t given something to do. 

He had ‘little brother’ written all over his every action. Franz should know, he was one too.

Predictably, Gavin perked up a little. “I’ll talk to him.”

“It was political opportunism,” Gabrielle said, waving her fork. “The Wrathwates together are as smart as your dog.”

Franz chuckled. “My dog is awfully smart. You might be giving them too much credit.”

“I watched him get lost on his way to his water dish yesterday.”

“The layout of the room is very confusing,” Franz said defensively. “Anyway, it felt too calculated to be nothing but opportunism. They waited longer than I’d have expected to make the accusation—or do you think that Lord Kenneth has a solid sense of dramatic timing?”

Gavin snorted.

“He has a point,” Gerard said, nodding along. “It’s worth considering.”

“The Quates put him up to it,” Gavin said, side-eyeing Owen and sitting in a way that suggested their feet were touching now. “Kieran was spending time with Hector. Hector dances on Helena’s puppet strings.”

Owen made a face. “I thought you were friends with Hector.”

“I am,” Gavin said, patting Owen’s leg. “Doesn’t mean he’s not doing his mother’s bidding.”

Franz wondered about that, but he’d let Gavin dig into that one. “Other than that, I can’t say I have any leads.”

“But you remain convinced that the assassination attempts were meant to fail,” Georgina asked him, cutting her meat. 

“I do.”

“Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Gabrielle grumbled, crossing her arms. “Wasting money on killers who aren’t supposed to kill anyone.”

“They did go down kind of easily,” Owen mused. As far as Franz knew, this was the first that anyone had told him or Gavin about this. 

“The reason I ask,” Georgina said, drawing their attention back to her. “Is that I want to know if you feel there’s going to be another incident at Olivia’s wedding. My sources say it’s unlikely.”

Franz took a drink of wine before answering. Olivia was getting married in a week, despite calls that she postpone the ceremony. Franz thought it was a good idea. She was the head of her house now and needed to project stability and at least the possibility of an heir to continue the family. It would be foolish of her not to get married, no matter how much she probably didn’t want to right this minute. 

“I think some movement is likely,” he said, guarded. “Not an attack on Olivia, there’s no need for that. In fact, I doubt there will be another assassination attempt. If I’m right that they weren’t really planning on killing Gabrielle, it would be just plain stupid to pretend to try again.”

“I’m worried about an attack on Franz, though,” Gabrielle said. “Everyone knows he’s investigating this. And if it’s all about getting someone’s ass on the throne, killing him is the easiest way to make me marriageable again.”

“Gabrielle’s right,” Owen put in, before Franz could disagree. “Killing Franz would solve a lot of problems for whoever this is. It’s what I would do. No offence, Franz.”

Franz didn’t take offense, but he smiled at Owen. “Killing me would start a war. They wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“Some people believe there is benefit in wars,” Gerard mused.

“Not people whose territories are near borders and capitals, which a good number of your advisors’ are,” Franz reminded him. 

He’d considered the possibility that it wasn’t one of Gerard’s direct advisors, but it seemed unlikely that at least one of them wasn’t involved. They stood the most obviously to gain.

“A fair point.” Gerard smiled now. “Speaking of which, I need a new diplomatic advisor now that mine is imprisoned. I probably don’t need to tell you that Dominic is angling for the position.”

That didn’t surprise Franz at all. “Give it to him,” he suggested, watching the king’s eyebrows raise. “Anything that puts him under closer scrutiny is a good idea.”

“See, that’s what I said,” Georgina said, pointing at Gerard. “And if you do it because Franz told you to and not because I told you to, we’re going to be having a chat, Gerard.”

The king laughed. “On wise counsel from many sources, I will very likely be appointing Lord Dominic of the White Nail my new diplomatic advisor.”

“A rare good decision from our noble king,” Georgina said pointedly. 

“Hey. I’ll have you know I’m a very good king, so everyone says.”

“Do they say that when you’re not in the room too?”

“Owen thinks I’m a good king.”

Owen nodded. “You’re easily the best king I’ve ever met, sir.”

Gavin snorted.

“That sounded like a compliment to me,” Franz said, nodding his head. “I suggest you take it before it turns out not to be one.”

“More wise advice,” Gerard said, watching Owen carefully. 

“It’s always worked for me,” Franz said, reaching for his cup. “Just this morning Gabrielle told me I was her favourite fiancée and I just thanked her and ran before any further details could surface that might ruin the moment.”

“You should just be bloody grateful you made the top of the list,” Gabrielle said, smirking. “You beat out the servant boy who agreed to marry me when I was six.”

“See? Franz asked, gesturing. “Those are the kinds of details I don’t need to hear. Though I am grateful to know that. What was his name?”

“Are you jealous of a seven-year-old boy?”

“I’d assume he’s not seven years old anymore,” Franz said.

“Wait, he was older than you?” Gavin asked. “That’s kind of scandalous, Gabi.”

“Oh, shut it.”

“No, you brought it up. I want to hear all the sordid details.”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. She was blushing a little. “Let’s go back to talking about people who want to kill us.”

“Well, there are a lot of those,” Franz said, leaning back. “So we’ll be here a while. Who would you like to start with?”

Franz could see having family dinners with these people for the rest of his life. He was okay with that.


	31. The Best Part of a Partner You’ve Known Well for a Long Time Is the Comfort and Ease of Being with Them

“Sun’s starting to set earlier,” Franz commented mournfully. 

“That’s what happens in the autumn,” Boey reminded him. 

Franz just gave a dramatic sigh. “Winter,” he muttered morosely.

“Happens every year, sir.” 

“Yes, Frederick, I recall.” Franz sent a glance at Boey, who’d been sending him glances all evening. Those were glances Franz knew how to interpret. They were ‘you’re getting laid tonight as long as you don’t make a scene in front of the child’ glances. 

So Franz had been on his best behaviour all evening despite wanting to protest that Frederick was old enough that he could sit at a table with two adults who wanted to have sex and not be scarred for life. No point pushing that fact right now, when he was trying not to get a boner just from all of Boey’s quiet smiles, the gentle touches to his foot under the table. 

He hadn’t succeeded, but at least he’d hidden it in his pants well enough that Frederick wouldn’t see unless he looked. 

“Should I contact the tailor to have a winter wardrobe made?”

Franz started to say no, then sighed. “Yes. Mention it to him when he drops off my outfit for the wedding.”

“Yes, sir.”

Franz nodded. “We’ll all have another fitting, stand in our loincloths together and get measured. The fun.” He at least got the small joy of watching Frederick pull a face when he realized what he’d invited. “In the meantime, I’m going to go to bed. Boey?”

“Yes, I’ll join you,” Boey said, and Franz felt a bit relieved. It was also possible that he’d missed Boey’s signals. “Frederick, why don’t you head to bed too? It’s getting late.”

The sun had only just gone down. Frederick looked out the windows, opening his mouth as if to make a comment, and he must have seen something on one of their faces because he nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired. I’ll take Dragon outside and then head to bed. Goodnight,” he told them, standing and gesturing for Dragon to come with him. 

“Goodnight, Frederick,” Franz said, smiling at him as he headed towards the bedroom with practiced nonchalance. 

He stopped being nonchalant right after Boey pulled the bedroom door shut. “It’s not like he was going to listen at the door,” Franz told Boey, turning around to kiss him. “And there was no easier way to say ‘hey, we’re going to have sex’ than by telling him to go to bed this early.”

“He doesn’t sleep enough,” Boey muttered, pulling Franz forward to kiss him. “Anyway, let’s not talk about him. Let’s talk about you and all the clothes you’re wearing.”

“You know, I recognize that as a problem,” Franz said, unlacing his shirt. “And rather than having a prolonged discussion, how about I just rectify it immediately?”

“Good plan,” Boey agreed. He smiled at Franz, and started undressing himself too. “I was trying to decide at supper if I wanted a blowjob, or if I wanted to give you a blowjob.”

Franz swallowed, slipping his shirt over his head. “Did you decide?”

“I thought I’d go for both.” Boey’s tone was conversational. “At the same time, preferably.”

“Works for me.” Franz grinned, undoing his pants as quickly as possible and stepping out of them, tugging at his loincloth to get it to unravel.

Naked, he took the long fabric of his loincloth, one end in each hand, and lifted it over Boey’s head, wrapped it around his back, used it to pull Boey closer as he got halfway out of his pants.

“Ew,” Boey told Franz, grinning as Franz stole a kiss. “That’s been on your sweaty dick all day.”

“The same one you’re about to put in your mouth?” Franz challenged, as Boey got out of his pants and undid his own loincloth. Naked, he pressed the two of them together, pressing his mouth against Boey’s, feeling their bodies press together.

They grew hard together, kissing until there was heat between them, and then Boey put his arms around Franz’s neck and his legs around Franz’s waist, hoisting himself up. “Carry me to the bed.”

“Yes, sir,” Franz said, doing just that even as his thighs protested. Boey was heavier than he looked. 

But, waddling in an undignified fashion, Franz managed it, and the two of them fell on the bed, Franz on top of Boey. They kissed again through their laughter, getting quiet as they got more invested in each other.

“Okay,” Boey muttered after a minute, putting his hand on the side of Franz’s face. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah,” Franz detached himself from Boey and climbed on the bed, taking a moment to admire just how pretty Boey was in the lamplight before they repositioned themselves, laying on their sides facing each other’s erections. 

Franz smiled, took Boey’s in his hand, then leaned forward and covered the head with his lips without hesitation. He wasn’t surprised to feel Boey’s on him at the same time, and both of them slid down each other, sucking and licking. Franz took in a bit more of Boey than Boey did of him; Franz liked to have a little bit more to work with, where Boey tended to like do more with less. 

They inched closer together on the bed as Franz sucked harder on Boey, running his tongue up and down the top of Boey’s shaft as he sucked. Boey paid a lot of attention to Franz’s head, lapping at it and sucking gently as he bathed it in attention. 

Franz couldn’t help making noise, he never could, letting out moans around Boey’s shaft that were at first quiet, but got louder and louder as Boey got more aggressive with Franz’s dick. Boey had started moving his hips, pushing farther into Franz’s mouth as Franz sucked him. Franz sucked harder, inviting Boey as far in as he could go, revelling in the taste. 

They were belly-to-belly on their sides, a pile of limbs and flesh on the bed, edging towards need and falling towards fulfillment. Boey gave a hard buck of his hips and started to fill Franz’s mouth, and Franz sucked him all down gratefully, swallowing everything Boey gave him. He kept sucking gently on Boey after he’d finished, as Boey kept teasing the head of Franz’s cock, taking him there slowly and unrelentingly. After what felt like forever, Franz gave a loud moan around Boey as he was overtaken with a wave of heat, shooting into Boey’s waiting mouth. 

After a good minute, Franz recovered, Boey swallowed and they just lay there like that for a minute, enjoying the closeness. Franz gave Boey gentle licks now and then and Boey sucked lightly on Franz’s head, just enjoying their afterglow.

Finally, though, Franz pulled back, rolling onto his back. When Boey did the same, he said. “Good idea.”

“I know,” Boey agreed, reaching down and finding Franz’s hand to hold, kind of awkward since he was upside down. “Mine usually are.”

“I guess you should move so we can cuddle properly,” Franz told him.

“I think you meant _you_ should move so we can cuddle properly.”

“But…my head is at the head of the bed. Your feet are up here.”

“Yeah, but after we cuddle a bit I’m probably going to want to do that again before we fall asleep,” Boey countered. 

“Oh.” Franz could get behind that. So, with great effort, he sat up, turned himself around, lay down beside Boey, putting their feet on the pillows. He yawned, pulled Boey into a cuddle that they both snuggled into for a bit until they were comfortable. 

“Your breath smells.”

“Well, whose fault is that?”

“Fair enough,” Boey muttered. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Boey,” Franz said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I always will. No matter what.”

“No matter what,” Boey nodded, putting an arm around Franz’s chest. 

They didn’t end up having that second round. They just fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other, feet on the pillows.


	32. Nobody Can Be Vigilant All the Time, and It’s Always When You’re Not that Something Happens

“I hope our wedding isn’t that boring.” 

“It was fine,” Gabrielle said, sipping wine.

“It was fine,” Franz agreed. “But it was really boring.”

“It was very boring,” Gabrielle conceded. “I mean, I got to see my best friend get married, so there was that. I expect it was less interesting for you.”

Franz shrugged. “I got advanced warning that our wedding is probably going to be boring.”

“If it’s any consolation, someone will probably try to kill us.” 

“Hm.” Franz thought about that, drank the last of his wine. It was pretty nice wine. “That’s true. Though hopefully we’ll have rounded them up by then.” He sincerely hoped that he’d have caught these people by their wedding, which they’d tentatively scheduled for the early winter. Franz cast a quick glance at Dominic, in that white that didn’t suit him as usual, and then looked away. 

“I wouldn’t count on it. Come on, let’s go congratulate Olivia.” 

Gabrielle led Franz across the hall in Olivia’s manor, to where she and her new husband were wrapping up a chat with some minor nobles. Olivia turned to Gabrielle, resplendent in her dress, green and white with a band of black around her arm. “Gabi,” she said, hugging Gabrielle. She looked happy, despite everything. 

“I’m so happy for you, Liv.” Gabrielle smiled at the new husband. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, your Highness.” Olivia’s husband was a northern noble by the name of Trent Swiftcurrent. Well, he was Trent Feestings now that he’d married into her house, Franz supposed. House Swiftcurrent was a major northern noble house and he was the second son of the sitting Lady, who was off talking to Kenneth Wrathwate—more the pity to her—and reminded Franz of his godmother. Franz had managed never to meet Trent; he’d been up north the last year putting some things in order before relocating to the capital with Olivia and had just returned a few days ago. He was a stocky northerner, ruddy and blonde and mean-looking, but he was smiling and kept sending Olivia adoring looks, so Franz tried not to make judgements. By all accounts, they’d fallen in love a few years ago.

“Congratulations, Lady Feestings,” Franz said, unsure.

She turned a smile on him, a lot more subdued but present. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “And thank you for coming.” 

Franz smiled back, nodding. “I wouldn’t miss it. You look lovely.”

“She always does,” Trent said, offering his hand for Franz to clasp. Franz took it, smiling. “Nice to meet you, your Highness.”

“You as well. Hopefully you adjust quickly to living all the way down here in the capital.”

“You know,” Trent said, smiling. “More than anything, I’m always thrown by the mountains being on the wrong side. I’m just so used to seeing them in the east, you know?”

Franz laughed. “I can see how that would take some getting used to. At least you’ll have warmer summers to make up for it.”

“I’m pre-emptively melting,” Trent assured him. “But I look forward to getting to know you, your Highness.”

“Please, just Franz.” 

“Have you two danced yet?” Olivia asked, looking over at the floor. 

“No,” Gabrielle said. “We were watching you. Then we were watching other people.”

“Entertaining ourselves by judging the dancing of others.” Among other things, of course. 

Olivia laughed. “Well, I know Gabrielle can dance, so it must be you who can’t.”

“I can dance just fine,” Franz said, defensive. “We were just having alternative fun.” Neither of them had wanted to draw attention away from Olivia and Trent during their dances, which they’d only just taken a break from.

“You ought to have some traditional fun,” Olivia said, nodding. “Otherwise people will wonder.”

Gabrielle sighed. “She’s right. Let’s go.”

“Okay, okay. Congratulations again.”

“I’m sure we’ll talk soon,” Olivia said, and beside her, Trent smiled. 

Franz smiled back, and let Gabrielle lead him to the dance floor, where they moved into a dance with practiced ease. Gabrielle was, in fact, a good dancer. “They look happy.”

“She’s in love with him,” Gabrielle muttered. “They fell in love not long after they met.”

“It shows,” Franz said, nodding. “It’s nice. Too many people don’t get to marry the people they love. Or love the people they marry.”

“He worships her,” Gabrielle told him with a smile. 

“The way it should be.”

“Obviously. I won’t pretend it’s not convenient for her to marry northern nobility. Her grandfather was hoping to start trading with the far north through House Swiftcurrent. I doubt Olivia will have different plans.”

House Feestings traded in lumber for the most part, Franz remembered. “Wood for what?”

“Copper, Aluminum. That’s what she told me, anyway.”

Franz nodded. “Useful things to have the market on. Reduce dependence on those evil southerners.”

His mother was going to be annoyed. Mostly, Franz thought, his godmother was going to be annoyed. She was married to Isabella DeThane, and House DeThane controlled most of the seabound shipping routes out of Kyaine, not to mention half the country’s copper mines.

But they’d have at least a year before anything was even put into motion, which was lots of time to figure themselves out. Franz wasn’t worried. “It’s also convenient that she’s marrying northern nobility in general,” Franz said to Gabrielle, as if she didn’t already know. 

“Yes, it is.” Gabrielle smiled. “You know, before the whole Owen incident, mom and dad were talking about marrying Gavin to Elle Skyhan.”

“Well, I can think of a few reasons why that might have gone over poorly.” Aside from the fact that Gavin apparently didn’t like women, there would have been resistance in the court to Gavin marrying the daughter of the other major northern house. 

“I don’t know if she’d have hated him more or if he’d have hated her more,” Gabrielle admitted. “But anyway, it became a non-issue and chatter is she’s looking across the ocean.”

“Definitely good you’ve got a northerner in your court, then,” Franz muttered, casting a glance over at Trent. One northern noble looking to marry in Aergyre didn’t mean much, but Dolovai proper didn’t have the best relationship with its far north, for much the same reason that the Fury Plateau area was only nominally part of Kyaine.

“Maybe I’ll find a fake job for him to do,” Gabrielle muttered. 

“To keep him from actually doing anything?” Franz asked. “Not a bad plan. Make him the minister of flags or something.”

“I don’t think we have a minister of flags.”

“So the position is vacant?”

“Sure, why don’t you apply?”

“I already have a job,” Franz told her.

“And what’s that?”

“Worshipping my queen?” Franz asked, face breaking into a grin.

“I’m going to punch you now.”

“Don’t punch me!”

“Preparing to punch you.”

“That would really look bad at Olivia’s wedding.” 

Gabrielle snorted. “I’m going to punch you later.” 

“I’ll note it in my calendar.”

“Shut up and dance.”

Franz shut up and danced, and the two of them had a quite enjoyable time moving back and forth across the dance floor. A few others joined them, including Gavin and Owen, who left not long after. It was very nice, dancing together, not working for a time. Even if Franz couldn’t help but watch people as he did.

“Stop thinking about politics,” Gabrielle said, spinning Franz on purpose so he couldn’t see Helena Quate.

“I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were, it’s the only thing you think about.”

“That’s not true, I think about Boey a lot. And you. And my dog.”

“I’m so flattered that I’m in between Boey and the dog.”

“That’s…”

There was a commotion over near the tables, and they stopped dancing, looking over. Gavin seemed to have dropped a cup of wine on the floor, but that couldn’t have warranted Owen’s shout. Or Owen running after a servant like…

“Gavin,” Gabrielle said, letting go of Franz and hurrying over to him. Franz followed after he recovered from his stagger. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Gavin said, watching Owen, pale. “I think…he tried to poison me.”

As he said that, Owen caught up with the servant, tackled him to the ground. “Owen’s going to kill him,” Gavin muttered, breaking off in that direction as Owen fished a vial out of the servant’s pocket.

Gabrielle looked at Franz, expression grim, more than it had been at the banquet. Franz understood. Someone had tried to kill her brother. That was a whole different game than trying to kill her. “Start thinking about politics again,” She said, heading off after Gavin. 

Franz looked across the room at Dominic, who happened to be looking his way. They made eye contact, and Franz held it for just a second. “I will,” he muttered, breaking it and heading over to Helena Quate. 

“Takes an assassination attempt to get you to talk to me,” she said, watching the guards take the would-be assassin away. 

“Did you know this was going to happen?” Franz wasn’t in the mood for games.

“No. If I had known, it wouldn’t have happened.” 

“Alright.” Franz sighed, watching Owen and Gabrielle fuss over Gavin. “Let’s figure this out before Dominic kills someone.”

“Or at least before he kills someone we like,” Helena agreed. “I’ll come speak with you at the castle soon.”

“No more subterfuge with servants?”

“Turns out you don’t respond well to that.”

“I don’t respond well to being manipulated,” Franz said, eyes still on Gabrielle. “I also don’t respond well to people trying to kill my friends and family.”

“Then we shall put a stop to at least one of those things,” Helena told him. “You should go talk to Olivia.”

“Yeah.” Franz sighed. “We’ll talk later.”

“Yes, we will, my prince.”

Franz set off, heading to intercept Olivia and Trent on their way there. 

So much for the boring wedding.


	33. When the Indirect Approach Doesn’t Work, Problems Should Be Met Head-on

“Gavin wants to leave the city for a while,” Gabrielle said, sitting down at Franz’s table. Since they were in his rooms today instead of hers, Dragon put his head on her lap. She scratched him absently behind the ears while Franz poured her some tea.

Franz looked at her, surprised. “Does he?”

“I think he figures it’s safer that way.” Gabrielle took the cup with a nod. “It smells like Owen’s idea to me.”

“It’s not a bad one,” Boey said, taking the third seat at the table and waving Frederick to sit down as well. “Getting him out of the city makes him harder to target.”

Franz nodded. “There are fewer servants around—and we could get away with surrounding him with bodyguards at all hours of the day, which he wouldn’t let us do here.”

“That’s why I think it was Owen’s idea,” Gabrielle said. “The poisoning attempt really shook him. I don’t think he really takes danger seriously unless it’s aimed at Gavin.”

Since Owen had always been able to just fight any danger that approached him, Franz could see why. “Where does he want to go?”

“I don’t think he has a destination in mind,” Gabrielle said. “He just wants to travel. Maybe he’ll go to the villa or something.”

“There are a lot of servants and people there, too,” Frederick said quietly, looking at Boey, who Franz knew had instructed him to speak his mind. “It wouldn’t be that hard to sneak someone in.”

“With a limited number of servants, we’d know who all of them were. We could control that, and keep Gavin in a secure location.” Gabrielle, much like Owen, was very shaken by what had happened at Olivia’s wedding. Franz understood that too. “It’s the best option.”

Frederick looked away. Boey nudged him. “Fredrick.”

“It’s just…” Frederick swallowed, nervous. “the one who put the poison in the cup. He was a castle servant. His name is Brady. I knew him, a little. Your Highness, he’s worked here for two years.”

Gabrielle went quiet, and then looked away with a sigh. “Yes,” she said. “I know. The interrogators are working on finding out why he decided to commit treason suddenly. Someone must have paid him, or had leverage, or…”

“Or he was planted in the castle two years ago for this reason,” Franz interrupted. “The point is, we can’t count on being surrounded by servants you know to keep Gavin safe. Being surrounded by knights is different.”

Or at least, Franz had to hope it was. But if all else failed, Owen was there. He was entering a state where he was suspicious of everyone, but Franz had a hard time picturing Owen as a spy. He was too dumb. 

“You two also can’t live your lives assuming everyone is out to get him,” Boey reminded them both. “There won’t be another attempt again this soon. He’s safe for now.”

“I’m not taking that chance,” Gabrielle said. “Okay, not the villa. I guess he can just go wander around somewhere in the countryside. There are probably orcs somewhere that need to be culled.”

Franz thought about it for a bit, weighing a few options. They could send Gavin south as an envoy, where Franz’s family would watch over him for a bit. He’d have a bit of a shield down there by virtue the fact that anything that happened to Gavin would be interpreted as an act of war. But then again, if someone wanted that, killing him in the south was a good way to get everything they wanted. Besides, Franz’s mother’s letters were getting slightly more concerning, and he’d gotten a rare one from his father too. They were both quite convinced—though neither had said it—that his uncle Hans had defected and was in the east somewhere, possibly in league with the Sorcerer King. 

There wasn’t really anything worth sending him too out east, and everything was as stable up north as it was going to get—plus sending him there might be seen as an insult to the northern noble lady he’d been almost-betrothed to. 

That left west, which Franz considered. “What about…”

“What about what?”

“What if we send him to deal with the piracy issue out west?” Franz asked. “Your parents name him as their envoy, and appoint him to be in charge of the crown’s effort to put down the pirate attacks. Rumour is they’ve gathered under one leader, and so someone needs to coordinate an effort to take that leader out.”

Gabrielle tented her hands, thinking. “Yes,” she said after a minute, her mind probably working through all the same things Franz’s just had. “Let’s do that. He’ll only be nominally in charge, of course—the navy commanders can deal with the actual planning. But sending a prince is a symbolic gesture that we’re taking it seriously. It might encourage your mother to do something about it too.”

Franz understood why she hadn’t, but he nodded. “Exactly. Who knows, maybe he’ll get to meet my brother or sister.” 

“Okay.” Gabrielle nodded, eyes on the table. “Okay. I’ll tell him to go to Pelican Bay, and I’ll talk to my parents. We shouldn’t dawdle on this—he should go in the next few days.”

“Agreed,” Franz said. “Less time for anyone to plot anything.” 

“Yeah.”

“He’ll be safe, Gabrielle,” Franz promised. “We’ll keep him safe.” 

“I know.” Gabrielle nodded again, with more conviction this time. “I’m not going to let anything hurt him. We’ll keep his destination quiet, I think. Tell him not to send Lord Draughten a missive until he’s nearly in the city. Stay in an inn.”

“Have your father write him some message for the naval commanders,” Boey suggested. “Then you can avoid telling them as well.”

“I…” Frederick swallowed. “I can maybe…slip someone into his servants. To keep an eye on him.”

Gabrielle turned her gaze on Frederick, amused. “You can slip someone in?”

Frederick reddened. “I have a lot of friends, your Highness.”

“You know, I was skeptical about you as a spy, but you’re surprisingly adept at it.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” Fredreick mumbled.

“Speaking of spies,” Gabrielle said, turning back to Franz. “You’ve spoken to Helena?”

“She didn’t know anything about the assassination attempt,” Franz said, wishing that tea didn’t taste so funny. Surely he should be used to it by now. “Which itself says something. Unless she’s lying, of course.”

“She wasn’t,” Boey said.

“How do you know?”

Boey smiled, and nodded at Frederick, who turned a deeper red. Gabrielle snorted. “A friend?”

“I know one of Lord Hector’s attendants, a little,” Frederick said. “He says Lady Helena came home from the wedding really angry and insisted on seeing a lot of her top, um…well, spies, right away.”

Gabrielle nodded. “I don’t suppose you have any friends whose masters came home from the wedding angry and demanded to see their top assassins right away?”

“No, your Highness, sorry.”

Franz smiled at him. “You’ve done very well, Frederick. I’m happy to operate under the assumption that we can trust Helena.”

“Do you think she doesn’t know that the kid who holds Hector’s coat is Frederick’s friend?” Boey asked, looking at his hand on the table.

Franz looked at him for a minute, nodding. Frederick was nodding too. “Still. I’m going to work with her. We’re going to trap Dominic—I’m not waiting for him to attack someone else.” 

“Good.” Gabrielle put her hand on Dragon’s head again. “Let me know what I can do to help, but I’m leaving it to you.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” Franz promised. “I’ve let him hurt enough people. He’s not going to do it again.”

Franz had been playing gently for long enough. He needed to get serious, because the people he was playing against were serious too. He had to make sure that Dominic learned that there were rules that weren’t to be broken, and that he’d broken one of them now. 

And he was going to pay for it, no matter what Franz had to do to make that happen.


	34. It’s Hard to Fit the Dreams of Children into the World of Adults

“Look at him,” Franz said, grinning.

“Stop looking at him, it’s weird.”

“He’s so cute, though!” 

Boey sighed, grabbing Franz’s hand. “Stop spying on Frederick.”

“Boey!” Franz sighed, rather dramatically. “Don’t you understand what’s happening here? Frederick is talking to a girl. Possibly for the first time. They’re having a whole conversation.”

“Stop planning their wedding.”

“I think they should have an autumn theme,” Franz said, not listening to any word in that sentence other than ‘wedding.’ 

They’d just sent Gavin off with his retinue to fight pirates in the west, when Franz had noticed Frederick chatting to a stablehand who he assumed was Abby. Frederick looked extremely nervous to Franz’s eye, but he was sticking with whatever they were talking about, and Franz wanted to see how it was going to pan out. 

“Don’t you have something more important to be doing?” 

“Than watch Frederick try to get a date? No.”

“There’s a whole assassination plot.”

“That can wait. I think he’s telling a joke. I hope she laughs.”

“In fact, there are two.”

“She seems really interested in what he’s saying. Do you think she’s faking it?”

“Someone you like is lying to you.”

“She laughed!” Franz had to struggle to keep his voice low. “She laughed. God, Frederick looks like he might die. But in that good, ‘man I hope I don’t get a boner right now’ sort of way, you know?”

“There’s _your_ wedding to plan, also.” 

“They’re a cute couple. I bet their kids will be cute.”

“You know,” Boey said, letting out a sigh. “Sometimes I really worry about the fact that the world is run by people like you. And that any part of it is run by you especially.”

Franz turned a small smile on him. “Good thing that part is actually run by you, then.”

“Fair. Are you planning to give Frederick any privacy or were you going to spy on his whole encounter with her?”

“I was planning to spy on the whole thing,” Franz said, nodding. “That sounds more interesting than the other thing.”

“He’s going to be embarrassed when he finds out you watched him.”

“He knows. He’s a master spy.”

“He’s a thirteen-year-old boy with a crush. He’s not paying attention to anyone but her.”

Franz considered that. “I suppose you’re right. He’ll know once I tell him.”

Someone cleared their throat behind Franz, and he turned, half-expecting to see Gabrielle or someone, but it was Matthew Hardhold, looking oddly skulky for someone of his bulk. “Matthew.”

“Franz,” Matthew said, nodding, and looking around. He wasn’t very good at being inconspicuous. “Can I…” he nodded over to the side a little, then glanced at Boey.

Franz gave Boey a look, which was returned, and then he nodded. “Of course.”

He headed off with Matthew, around the side of the stable. “I spoke with your mother yesterday,” he said as they slowed. He’d met with Lady Mia to try and find out why Elenora Suntower wanted to blame her for what had happened at the banquet. Nothing had come of it.

“I know. She lied to you.”

“Of course she did,” Franz sighed. “And you’re here to out her?”

“It’s…” Matthew shuffled his feet. “We don’t play politics against each other.”

Franz looked at him, trying to decide if Matthew really meant that. Was he really that naïve or was he getting at something else? Franz’s impulse was to assume the latter. “Yes, we do, Matthew.”

Matthew shook his head, though. “And Turner’s dead because of it. I’m not doing it. Mom lied to you.”

That wasn’t why Turner was dead, but Franz would take it for now. It sounded sincere, anyway. “About what?”

“When she said she had no idea who’d attack Lady Suntower. She has an idea.”

“Of course she does,” Franz said, watching the way Matthew wrung his hands. “Everyone does.”

“She thinks it was Dominic.”

“It was,” Franz said, shrugging. “But thank you.”

“She also…” Matthew looked around again, sighed. “She doesn’t know I’m here.” 

“She’s not going to hear about it from me.”

“She has a conflict with Lady Suntower. In the past, but still.” Matthew looked straight at Franz now, looking nervous. “I’m telling you because…well, I figure you’ll find out about it from someone. And I don’t want you getting suspicious. I know you came to us because Lady Elenora told you she suspected my mom.”

Franz nodded, thinking it was interesting that Matthew didn’t suspect Susanna. 

“She was supposed to marry my mom’s brother. Lady Suntower was. He, um. Died.”

“I see.” Franz frowned a little. “Did she kill him?”

“No, nothing like that! But…the alliance was supposed to carry over; she was supposed to marry my mom’s cousin Martin instead.”

“Ah.” Franz got it now. “But I’m guessing that despite that, Susanna’s father’s name wasn’t ever Hardhold.”

“It wasn’t ever Suntower either,” Matthew muttered, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. She broke the alliance. My mom got over it. She’s not mad anymore. They’re talking about me and Susanna getting married.” 

Franz nodded, still not believing that was true. “I know.” 

“What I’m saying is…” Matthew shrugged, still looking unsure. “I just wanted to tell you that. So that you don’t waste your time investigating something that happened twenty years ago that nobody cares about anymore. And…” Another furtive look around. “I don’t know if Olivia’s told you this. But she was worried about Turner. She thought he was in danger. She was right.”

Franz nodded slowly now. “Why did she think that?” He remembered the conversation he’d had with Olivia on the day Turner had died, but she hadn’t mentioned thinking he was in danger then. 

“She didn’t trust Gloria. She…I shouldn’t say this out loud.”

“You came all the way here, Matthew.” And, Franz thought, not because he’d wanted to talk about who Susanna’s mother hadn’t slept with twenty years ago. 

“She thought Gloria was behind the attack on the banquet. That she was trying to kill Gabrielle.”

Nobody had been trying to kill Gabrielle at the banquet, though. Clearly Matthew didn’t know that. “To make herself the heir?”

“I guess. At the time, Olivia was worried that Gloria and Gavin were conspiring. But after what happened at her wedding, I don’t know.”

“Seems unlikely that Gavin would try to poison himself,” Franz agreed. Though maybe he’d never intended to drink from that cup. If Owen hadn’t knocked it out of his hand, maybe he’d have arranged to drop it, or…

Franz shook his head. It was too farfetched. And his read on Gavin didn’t suggested he’d do something like that. Not to his sister.

But then again, the assassination attempt at the banquet had been faked. 

“Yeah. Anyway, um…” Matthew looked really distressed. “Don’t tell anyone I was here, please? I don’t…want to get involved in all this.”

Franz really, honestly thought he was telling the truth. “Okay. Thank you for telling me, Matthew.”

“Yeah. You should talk to Kieran. He’s been upset since the banquet. I can’t cheer him up. I…don’t know what happened to us, Franz.”

Franz did. They’d all grown up. “Neither do I, Matthew, but I’d like to fix it.” 

Matthew nodded, and he headed off, still looking around as if expecting to be jumped. 

Franz waited a second to collect his thoughts before following him, rejoining Boey near the entrance to the stables. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing interesting. What was that about?”

“Susanna’s father was supposed to be Mia Hardhold’s cousin, but he wasn’t. Olivia thinks Gloria and Gavin are trying to kill Gabrielle. And Matthew really wants to believe the best of his friends and it’s tearing him up that they won’t let him.”

Boey nodded, expression a little grim. “Growing up sucks.”

“And you wonder why I want to spend a few minutes watching Frederick fumble his way through adolescence.”

“Yeah,” Boey sighed. He looked over. “Too late.”

Franz looked up as well, and saw Frederick approaching them, grinning from ear to ear, cheeks flushed. “My prince! I didn’t realize you were still here.” He was bubbling.

“Oh, Boey and I got stuck talking to some people after the prince left.” Franz smiled at him. “You look pleased with yourself. What have you been up to?”

“Uh…” Frederick’s flush spread quite the distance very quickly. “Nothing important!” As dictated in the laws of the universe, his voice broke as he said it. 

“Really?” Franz teased. “It looked awfully important.” 

“You…were watching?”

“Only most of the time. She seemed very happy to be having that talk with you.”

Frederick threw a look over his shoulder into the empty doorway of the stable. “You think so?” He sounded both excited and terrified. 

“I happen to be an expert in these things,” Franz said, putting an arm around Frederick and starting off towards the castle. “Come on, I want to hear all about it.”

He’d worry about politics and adulthood in just a little while.


End file.
